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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25198000">Moon Cycle I: The Very Error of the Moon</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/BAmarino86/pseuds/BAmarino86'>BAmarino86</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Wolfman (2010)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Drama, Drama &amp; Romance, England (Country), F/M, Hurt/Comfort, London, Missing Scene, References to Shakespeare, Retelling, Romance, Shakespeare Quotations, The Wolfman - Freeform</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 09:35:23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>54,283</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25198000</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/BAmarino86/pseuds/BAmarino86</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A retelling of the 2010 film. For years Lawrence Talbot has tried to erase the tragic events of his past, only to find himself drawn back home by the disappearance of his brother, Ben. Together with Gwen Conliffe, he will discover the truth about his family and try to break the curse that hangs over them.</p><p>Reviews are welcome. I don't own the story or characters.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Lawrence Talbot / Gwen Conliffe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Full Hunter's Moon</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The moon rose high over the rooftops of London. It was a clear night, rare for that time of year, and the city seemed beautiful and mysterious bathed in the silver light. Far below the gaze of the celestial orb, ignorant of its power, a great mass of people stepped out from the Royal Theater.</p>
<p>Men and women gathered on the steps of the famous building as they waited for their carriages to take them home. They were England's cultured class and as such, they took pride in their knowledge of fine arts. They were also harsh critics and would have been reluctant to admit that any art form from across the ocean could hold up against their standards. However, this belief was put to the test by the American Theater Company and its triumphant debut performance.</p>
<p>Hailed as one of New York's greatest sensations, the ATC had traveled across the ocean to capture European hearts with a six-month tour. The first stop on their journey was England and the company's director had selected Hamlet for their inaugural performance. It was a bold move to strike at British sensibilities on their own turf, but the response from the critics was ecstatic. The Courier newspaper ran an elaborate piece about the play and soon word spread out that the ATC's Hamlet was something to behold, especially at the hands of its compelling leading man.</p>
<p>The article ran thus: "America has at length vindicated her capability of producing a dramatist of the highest order. Lawrence Talbot's acting goes above and beyond anything seen before. He does not play at being Hamlet, but instead one would believe him to be the Danish King in the flesh. There is such an emotional charge in each delivered line that one can't help but wonder the source from where Mr. Talbot draws the power to give such a moving performance."</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <em>"Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him, Horatio, a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy."</em>
</p>
<p>From one of the high boxes of the Royal Theater, Gwen watched the play with close attention, clinging to every word. It had been difficult to get tickets, but her father had managed to procure her a seat in one of the boxes nearest to the stage, courtesy of one of his business contacts. He had innocently believed her interest was sparked by the constant talk about the play, and Gwen had let him believe that. She, however, cared about one thing and one thing only: Lawrence Talbot.</p>
<p>When he'd made his first appearance on-stage, the audience clapped and cheered and he took a moment to acknowledge them with a modest bow of the head. Gwen had discreetly leaned forward and studied him with care. Lawrence Talbot wasn't exactly handsome, but there was something attractive about his dark features and enigmatic air. This, however, did not help her in finding the link between</p>
<p>"But he isn't Ben," she thought, lowering her opera glasses, and worrying her lip.</p>
<p>As the play progressed, Gwen constantly argued with herself. "Surely, if anyone could know the whereabouts of her fiance, it would be his brother." She reminded herself as she went over her plan for the hundredth time. "But what if he doesn't know? What if it's a dead-end?" Gwen let out a sigh. She felt no more certain of her mission than when she'd first arrived at the theater.</p>
<p>However, there was a moment in the play, Lawrence strode across the stage towards the side nearest to her box. <em>"There's a divinity that shapes our ends, rough-hew them how we will,"</em> he proclaimed, lifting his gaze and raising a hand towards her.</p>
<p>A shiver ran down Gwen's spine. She couldn't be certain how, but for a brief moment, she had seen her beloved Ben. It was such a vivid image of him, superimposed over his brother's features that she had nearly cried out in surprise.</p>
<p>No one seemed to notice her discomfort, as she placed a trembling hand over her heart as it beat wildly against her chest. In a single moment, her doubts vanished and she resolved to ask, beg if need be, for his help.</p>
<hr/>
<p>After the play ended, Gwen made her way to the backstage door and begged the theater manager for an interview with Lawrence Talbot. The man had assessed her conscientiously, unsure if she was one of those women who often made their way into dressing rooms and under the sheets of celebrated actors. She certainly wouldn't have been the first lady to ask, but there was something about the sober air she bore that indicated she was seeking Lawrence for a different reason.</p>
<p>"Down the hallway and to your right," he said, waving her in. "It'll be the only room at that end. Can't miss it."</p>
<p>The young woman walked hesitantly down the long corridor. It was dark, with only a couple of lamps to light her way, and the place smelled of dust, wood, and grease. From above, the ghostly voices of the stagehands called out to each other as pulleys cranked up and down. She also passed a group of performers, who stopped their conversation and stared curiously as she neared the end of the hall.</p>
<p>Gwen would not have minded if she hadn't thought her actions too forward. "But you can't go back now," she murmured to herself. "Think of Ben. You have to find him and this may be your last hope."</p>
<p>She descended a set of wooden stairs and found herself facing the last door in the corridor. The paint on it had cracked and peeled off in some places and a tarnished cardholder held a piece of paper that announced "Lawrence Talbot" in cramped handwriting.</p>
<p>Behind it, Gwen could hear voices, laughter, and music. She hesitated, her hand hovering above the door. She had counted on being alone with Lawrence, and the thought of having to wade through a crowd to find him made her uncomfortable. Nevertheless, this was something she had to do. She took a deep breath and rapped the door loudly.</p>
<p>There was no pause in the celebration, but she only had to wait a few moments before she made out the sound of footsteps. The door opened and a bald man dressed only in a striped pair of tights, and a white undershirt greeted her. Beyond him, Gwen could see a sea of people in various states of undress milling about, drinking wine directly from the bottle. In a corner, someone played a fiddle, though no one seemed to pay attention to the tune.</p>
<p>"Well?" The man demanded impatiently.</p>
<p>"I am here to speak with Mr. Talbot if you please," Gwen said with more confidence than she felt.</p>
<p>"Talbot, eh?" He smirked. "That's what they always say. Though in the end, most don't do much talking."</p>
<p>Gwen's cheeks turned crimson, but she met the man's gaze with her own. "It is not a personal matter, sir. I come on behalf of Mr. Talbot's family and I demand you let me speak with him."</p>
<p>The man stared at her in shock and then began to utter something when he was interrupted. "I'll handle this, Francis."</p>
<p>A figure had detached itself from the crowd and swaggered up to them with a glass of champagne in his hand. The man who'd opened the door drew back inside, giving her a sideways glance.</p>
<p>"What can I do for you, miss…?"</p>
<p>Upclose, she could see that he had jet black hair and that his eyes were of a hazel tone. He was of a regular build, a little taller than the average man, and his broad shoulders gave him an imposing presence. In many ways, he was similar to Ben, but the vapid smile he offered sat unwell on his face and made her feel all the more uncomfortable.</p>
<p>"I'm Gwen Conliffe," she murmured, clenching her hands together. "I do apologize for approaching you in this manner, but I must speak with you in private, Mr. Talbot. It is an important matter."</p>
<p>"I'm sure it is, but as you see," he motioned to the room. "I'm entertaining at the moment and I find myself a little tired after tonight's performance. Perhaps another time?"</p>
<p>"There might not be another time, Mr. Talbot!" She exclaimed. "I've come to see you about your brother. I am his fiance."</p>
<p>Lawrence grew still and something flashed across his features, too quick for her to catch. "Is Ben here?" He asked, glancing over her shoulder as though he might find him there.</p>
<p>"No, he's missing. From Blackmoor, he is gone." The words exploded from her mouth with such vehemence that Lawrence's eyes widened with evident surprise.</p>
<p>He turned to Francis, who'd remained nearby, and whispered something in his ear. The man looked askance at Gwen and then lifted his voice above the din. "Ladies and gentlemen, shall we move our little party to another venue? Master Talbot is engaged at the moment."</p>
<p>The crowd moved out of the room, giggles, and murmurs washing over Gwen as they passed by. The last to leave was a blond woman in a red corset and petticoat. She sidled up to Lawrence, giving Gwen a hard look, and then took the champagne glass he still held. She emptied the contents in one long draught and then handed it back to him before breezing out the room. Lawrence was unfazed. He patiently waited until the door had closed and then led Gwen to a small sitting area.</p>
<p>Despite herself, the young woman glanced around curiously. She had never envisioned what entailed the life of an actor, but she guessed it didn't amount to much. In the farthest corner were two trunks, one of which stood open, revealing colorful clothes trimmed in sequins and gold. Beside them were a washstand with a small mirror, and a dressing-table, which held a mess of jars and brushes. Last, the coat and shirt that Lawrence had worn that evening, hung from a hook on the wall, waiting for the next performance. It was such a different lifestyle than her own, that Gwen felt suddenly embarrassed. She quickly went to the seat that Lawrence offered and sat down, smoothing her down her dress to hide her discomfort.</p>
<p>"You may speak freely now, Miss Conliffe," he said, sitting across from her. "Though I can't imagine how I can be of any help."</p>
<p>Gwen took a deep breath. "A month or so ago, Ben read in the paper that your theater company was coming to the Isles. In the article, they mentioned you by name and he was immediately interested in contacting you. We made plans to attend one of the performances as soon as he was able to make the trip from Talbot Hall, but that was the last time I heard of him. Two weeks later, I received a telegram from Sir John saying he'd disappeared."</p>
<p>"Talbot Hall," Lawrence murmured almost to himself. "Is that where you plan to live after you are wed?"</p>
<p>Gwen was taken aback by the question; it seemed rude and impertinent when there were more important things at hand. "Not at all," she said after a moment. "We intend to live in London."</p>
<p>"At your insistence?"</p>
<p>Gwen reddened. She didn't feel comfortable discussing their private plans with Lawrence, not when their future was so uncertain. "It was Ben's idea. He always wanted to live in the city."</p>
<p>Lawrence scoffed. "I bet my father loved that."</p>
<p>"Forgive me, Mr. Talbot, but what has any of this to do with your brother's disappearance?" She demanded, frustration bleeding into her tone.</p>
<p>"Nothing, of course, but I am afraid I can't help you," he said in an offhand manner, as though they were discussing the weather. "I haven't seen my brother in many years and know nothing of his whereabouts. It might be foolish to ask, but have you tried the police yet? They are more qualified for this type of situation."</p>
<p>"Sir John has seen to that," Gwen replied, even as her heart plummeted down. "He alerted the police in Blackmoor village and the surrounding towns, but no one knows anything."</p>
<p>Lawrence gave a bitter chuckle. "The old hunter's no longer up to the chase, is he?"</p>
<p>"I'm sure I don't understand your meaning. Sir John has shown great concern for Ben and has done everything in his power to find him."</p>
<p>"Then why did he send you in his stead, Miss Conliffe?"</p>
<p>Though his face had not shown any emotion other than faint interest, Lawrence tone had an edge to it that surprised Gwen. What had Sir John to do with any of this? Was Lawrence simply behaving in this way towards her because he thought his father had sent her?</p>
<p>All at once, her sorrow evaporated and she grew angry. "I came of my own free will to ask for help from the only other person Ben can call family. I think that whatever differences you have with your father, these can be put aside in this most difficult hour."</p>
<p>Lawrence's features hardened at her evident reproach. "Your invitation would be most appealing, Miss Conliffe, but the fact is that I am engaged under a contract for the next three months." He replied coldly. "I am sure that a lady such as yourself can understand the value of a man keeping his commitments."</p>
<p>At last, Gwen was overwhelmed and she felt a knot form in her throat. She realized now how absurd it had been to approach Lawrence Talbot for help. He had proved to be a difficult, arrogant man and she was unwilling to waste any more of her time.</p>
<p>Gathering her dignity, she rose to her feet like a veritable queen. "It must be a great fortune to do battle with imaginary demons, Mr. Talbot, because right now mine are very real." Then, without waiting for another word from him, she went to the door and left.</p>
<hr/>
<p>The cab ride back home was a blur of tears for Gwen. She had hardly stepped into the carriage when the dam of her sorrow burst forth. Since she'd first received the terrible news, she had managed to keep herself strong by thinking Ben had simply gone off without bothering to tell anyone. It wasn't common for him to do so, but she couldn't think of any other reason. She thought back to Lawrence's words about the honor of a man's word and she thought of the possibility of her fiance leaving her for another woman. It was cruel of him to say so, though it was always a possibility. Nevertheless, Gwen knew in her heart that Benjamin Talbot was a loyal, faithful man, who would have never done anything to hurt her.</p>
<p>The clock was striking half-past ten when Gwen arrived home, feeling sad, defeated, and more worried than ever. She was still in the process of removing her coat and hat when her father came out of the sitting room with an envelope in his hand.</p>
<p>She took one look at his face and knew that bad news awaited her. He handed her the missive that had arrived from Talbot Hall at about the same time she'd left the theater. It contained only two short sentences: Ben found dead. Stop. Funeral next week. Stop.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Shakespeare quotes on this chapter:</p><p>"Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him, Horatio, a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy." — Hamlet, “Hamlet”, Act 5, Scene 1</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Waning Hunter's Moon</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Lawrence Talbot sat alone in his dressing room. He was nursing a bottle of wine on one hand, and with the other, he pushed his hair back away from his face. The short interview he'd had with his brother's fiance had just ended, and he was left quite shaken.</p><p>Despite his rude conduct, Gwen Conliffe had surprised him in her behavior. She had neither raged nor wept, nor had she slapped him as other women had done before. Instead, she'd given him an icy look, had said a few choice words, and then left. There had been no backward glance or slamming of the door, only a quiet click that even now echoed ominously in his ears.</p><p>"That's it for the evening's celebration," he muttered out loud, taking a long drink.</p><p>Even if Gwen's parting words hadn't stung his pride, Lawrence knew he wouldn't be able to go back to the cast party and pretend that nothing was amiss. He had expected to feel anger and contempt towards the young woman, but he had not expected to feel regret. That was something he didn't handle well.</p><p>Lawrence Talbot was a compelling and celebrated actor, but sometimes his deliveries became too intense, particularly when he portrayed guilt. His harshest critics often described it as a lack of dignity, stating his Hamlet was ragged melancholy, his Othello fury-driven, and his Macbeth too visceral. Even Lawrence's manager had once commented on the intensity of his performances though he hadn't made too much of a fuss over it. As long as tickets were sold and the audience was happy, his lead actor could do pretty much whatever he wanted.</p><p>Lawrence knew all of this, but he was never shaken by anyone's opinion of the way he did theater, mainly because they didn't understand his method of acting. What most people didn't realize was that performing was not about memorizing lines and putting on a costume, but rather about embodying the characters. The audience needed something real to relate to, and that's what Lawrence attempted night after night. He became Hamlet, Othello, and Macbeth by accepting their troubles and tribulations, and rejoicing and suffering as they did. It certainly made good theater, but the toll it took on him was heavier than anyone realized.</p><p>If there was a downside to his practice was that Lawrence's fears, doubts, and memories were the fuel for his acting, and it forced Lawrence to dig deep in the recesses of his soul. This sometimes awoke terrible feelings that stayed with him long after the curtain had closed, and the evening's performance had been no exception. After the play ended, Lawrence had intended to spend the rest of the evening drinking himself into a stupor and flirting with the girls from the cast like he usually did. However, Miss Conliffe's visit had thrown him off and dampened his enthusiasm.</p><p>Lawrence leaned back with a sigh, recalling the look she had given him before she left. It was one of disapproval and veiled distaste.</p><p>
  <em>"They whose guilt within their bosom lies, imagine every eye beholds their blame."</em>
</p><p>The words came to him unbidden, and he felt the heat of shame on his face. He knew what Gwen had seen: the selfish, cocky actor, who wouldn't be moved by anything or anyone, not even his family. It was only one more in a slew of characters he played, but the truth was that her story had deeply affected him, and he'd been afraid to show it.</p><p>Gwen had caught him off-guard when she mentioned she was Ben's fiance, and the idea of meeting his brother at that moment had both terrified and elated him. Lawrence hadn't seen Ben since he'd been sent to America to live with a distant aunt. The two had attempted to keep the bond alive despite the distance by an intense exchange of correspondence. Then, as his acting career took off, Lawrence attempted to make the trip back home once or twice, though he ended up postponing it. He hadn't felt strong enough to face his father and brother, not after all that had happened. Nevertheless, Lawrence had intended to use this trip to England to mend the relationship with Ben, if not with his father but, the news Gwen had brought, were extremely unsettling.</p><p>Lawrence leaned his head back and stared at the ceiling. Where could Ben have gone? Had something happened to him?</p><p>Had he truly abandoned his fiance? He wouldn't be the first to do so, but Lawrence could not imagine his brother to behave that way with anyone, least of all a woman like Gwen.</p><p>His thoughts briefly went to his father, Sir John of Talbot Hall. Was he concerned for his son's welfare, or was this just another sick, power move? Gwen had assured him that the old man had not sent her on his behalf, but Lawrence wouldn't put it past him. He tried to imagine his father's reaction when he saw his eldest son on his doorstep. Would he turn him away? Embrace him in joy? He decided not to dwell too much on the idea; his feelings for his father were a dark, complicated mess best left undisturbed. Instead, Lawrence thought of Gwen.</p><p>"By God, she was beautiful," he said, slurring his words. He pictured her as she'd stood before him. Her head had been held high, and her shoulders thrown back arrogantly. Her blue eyes had watched him with deep intensity, and her rosy mouth had been slightly open as though ready to receive a kiss.</p><p>"You got lucky in finding a woman like that," Lawrence mumbled as sleep finally caught up with him. "I'll find you, brother. I'll find you, and I'll make her happy again."</p>
<hr/><p>Four days later, Lawrence was on the morning train that left Euston Station at half-past seven. It had taken some negotiating on his part, but he'd gotten his manager to give him some time off. The company would continue the tour in France in a month, so there was plenty of time for him to sort out the situation with Ben.</p><p>As Lawrence watched the English countryside pass by, he thought of what lay ahead of him: Blackmoor, Talbot Hall, and his father. He would have never admitted it to anyone, but the truth was that he was slightly scared of his father. His nightmares were always about his former home: dark, shadowy hallways, ghostly shapes meandering through the park, and something else. Something that eluded the grasp of his thought, but which was inexplicably linked to his father. He shook his head. It was no use anticipating the encounter; he'd just have to deal with it when the moment came.</p><p>An hour later, the train lurched out of a station, jarring Lawrence awake. He blinked his eyes open just in time to see an old gentleman come into the compartment. He pressed his hand to his eyes to shake off the dregs of sleep, and when he looked again, he saw the old man was handing him something.</p><p>"Your family?" he asked in a crisp, cultured tone.</p><p>Lawrence took the small folding portrait where he kept the only evidence of his past life. He had been looking at it, and it must have fallen from his grasp after he fell asleep.</p><p>"It was my mother," he murmured, opening it. "She died not long after this picture was taken."</p><p>The old gentleman gave him an understanding smile. "Are you traveling far?"</p><p>"Up to Blackmoor. My father and my brother live there."</p><p>Recognition flashed across the man's face, but his smile remained warm. "In all my travels, I've always found that a good walking stick is necessary when you're out in the moors." He said as he picked up his cane and offered it to Lawrence.</p><p>"I acquired this many years ago in Gevaudan. It is the work of a master silversmith, but its heft does not suit me anymore."</p><p>It was indeed a wonderful piece of craftsmanship. The shaft was made of polished ebony with a silver handle molded into a wolf's head. Lawrence noticed the collar was loose, and as he pulled it, he revealed a thin rapier. He briefly wondered why someone would need to carry a concealed weapon, but offered no comment. After all, men rode the western plains of America with guns and rifles holstered at their sides.</p><p>"It is magnificent," Lawrence said, handing it back, but the gentleman shook his head.</p><p>"It would please me to know a young man like yourself can make use of it. One may never know when it will come in handy."</p><p>Lawrence looked at him curiously but handed it back nonetheless. "I'm honored, but I can't accept such a gift."</p><p>The gentleman's smile did not waver, and he took back the stick without another word. Then, he took out a newspaper and began reading it, sparing Lawrence from further small talk.</p><p>A couple of hours later, the conductor knocked on Lawrence's compartment door and opened it, waking him again.</p><p>"Excuse me, Mr. Talbot. We've arrived at Blackmoor. My men are already bringing down your luggage, and a carriage has been summoned for you."</p><p>Lawrence nodded and noted the old gentleman was gone. He picked up his coat and would have walked out had not a glint caught his eye. He did a double-take and saw the wolf's head walking stick tucked between two seats. It could have been left behind by mistake, but Lawrence's intuition told him that wasn't the case.</p><p><em>"Wear this for me, one out of suits with fortune,"</em> he quoted with grim amusement, taking it along with him.</p>
<hr/><p>Despite its smalls size, Blackmoor was a charming, country village. It was a small cluster of buildings, nestled in the English countryside between a wandering stream and the woods. The houses and businesses were all made of the same tan rock, which was often hidden by a curtain of ivy, and the church, which stood out in the background, had a medieval air about it. The main square was nothing more than an ancient gazebo and a stone slab with an inscription left by the town's founding fathers. At the moment, there was a flurry of activity on the street as people came and went on their errands. Farmers proudly displayed their fruits and vegetables in wheelbarrows; peddlers set up stalls and called out the variety of their wares to passersby. Women gathered in clusters to gossip, as they waited for their turn at the butcher shop and groups of children ran about, playing.</p><p>Lawrence observed all of this as the carriage rode through the town. He had only vague memories of the place, but he was surprised by what he saw. Life in Blackmoor seemed so peaceful that he guessed the passing of the years rarely made an impact on its citizens' lives. Briefly, he wondered if he would be able to endure such a quiet life. It might be difficult to adapt, but not entirely impossible. He recalled Gwen's comment about moving to London with Ben once they were married. His brother had spent all his life within the walls of Talbot Hall with no other companion than his father, so it made sense that he longed for a change. As for Gwen, Lawrence was certain she would have withered in such a meager society, but maybe it wouldn't matter if she were with the man she loved. He let out a sigh and shook his head to tear away her memory from his mind.</p><p>The road continued through the woods for a couple of miles, until the tree line broke, giving way to the open moors. Verdant hills of heather and cotton grass dominated the landscape as far as the eye could see. The cold wind from the north blew through the fields, parting them like waves in the ocean and brought with it a dense cloud cover. Lawrence watched with rapt attention as the clouds moved overhead at an amazing speed. He had forgotten how quickly the weather changed here, and he hoped the rain would hold off until he arrived at Talbot Hall.</p><p>A half-hour later, the carriage veered on to a plain, dirt road, and Lawrence noted they had passed the stone columns that marked the border of the Talbot estate. It might have been the concern he had over his brother's disappearance or the expectation of returning home and seeing his father again, but Lawrence suddenly dreaded what lay ahead of him. A cold sweat ran down his spine, and his wool coat made him feel asphyxiated, especially in the confined space of the carriage box. His stomach ached, and he had the unmistakable feeling that he was going to be sick. Immediately, Lawrence banged on the roof of the vehicle with his walking stick.</p><p>The carriage slowed to a stop and, he threw open the door, stepping down in shaky legs. "Everything all right there, Mr. Talbot?" The driver called back.</p><p>"Yes... yes," Lawrence replied after he had taken several deep breaths. He took out his handkerchief and wiped the sweat from his forehead. "I'll walk the rest of the way. Please wait for me at the entrance of the house." The driver gave him a puzzled look but kept his thoughts to himself as he spurred the horses on.</p><p>Once he was alone and he'd calmed himself, Lawrence began walking in the same direction the carriage had taken. The sky was now overcast and, once in a while, he heard the distant rumble of thunder. He picked up his pace, and a few minutes later, he reached a stone bridge. From there, he saw a neat expanse of field and the edge of a garden, but it was the crumbling, decayed shell of Talbot Hall that immediately caught his eye. It looked like a rotting corpse among the trees that still held their summer hues, and Lawrence was unable to repress a shudder. He didn't know why, but he felt as though something horrible was waiting for him behind the weathered walls.</p><p><em>"The great dignity that his valor hath here acquired for him shall at home be encountered with a shame as ample,"</em> he said out loud, and taking a deep breath, he directed his steps towards the building. He was home.</p><p>When Lawrence reached the entrance, he noted the driver had already unloaded his luggage and that he stood attentive beside his carriage. He seemed eager to return to the village.</p><p>"I knocked, but there was no answer, Mr. Talbot," he said in a tense tone. "Do you wish me to wait in case there is no one home?"</p><p>Lawrence offered a wry smile. His one desire was to leave the place, but he shook his head instead. "No need, I know my way in."</p><p>He paid the man, giving him a generous tip and then turned towards the door. He took hold of one of the enormous iron knockers and banged it several times. Everything remained still. Briefly, he regretted not sending word of his visit, but he had not wanted to create any sort of expectation. After another couple of minutes, he knocked again with more force, and the oaken door slightly creaked open. Carefully, he pushed it open, letting in a flurry of dry leaves.</p><p>"Hello?" Lawrence called out, his voice sounding small and frightened in his ears.</p><p>The parlor was unlit, and it took a moment for Lawrence's eyes to adjust to the gloom. With distaste, he noted that the interior of the house was just as depressing as its exterior. There were muddy tracks across the once-white marble floor, and the tapestries that hung from the walls looked weathered and run down. The fireplace that had once welcomed visitors with a merry fire was empty save for cobwebs, and the furniture of the seating area was covered in a thick layer of dust. The air of abandonment gave Lawrence a chill, and he briefly wondered if his brother had ever brought his fiance for a visit.</p><p>He was still inspecting his surroundings when suddenly, a fierce growl froze him. He whipped around and saw an enormous wolfhound approach him, its teeth bared. Lawrence let out a sharp hiss, and he quickly stepped away from it, holding his walking stick before him like a sword. The dog's growling grew menacing, and it had herded him halfway up the stairs when a hard voice spoke behind him.</p><p>"Samson!" It commanded.</p><p>It was a voice Lawrence would have recognized anywhere. He slowly turned his head to get a look at the man on the landing. Grizzled and gray, Sir John Talbot looked every one of his eighty years. In the years since Lawrence had last seen him, he had grown stout, and his features had bloated. His hair and beard were all but white, but there was something about his eyes that still inspired respect and fear. His clothes looked like they had once been elegant, but they were ill-fitting and worn, to the point that Lawrence could see frayed cuffs and loose threads.</p><p>"Hello, Father," he greeted, offering a sheepish smile.</p><p>"Lawrence?" The old man lowered the rifle he'd been holding and descended the steps.</p><p>To his amusement, Lawrence noted that his father was several inches shorter than him, and he thought that there was some justice in the world after all. He remembered his father as a fearsome giant that glowered above him, but it was he who now towered over him.</p><p>"And so the prodigal son returns," the old man said, not without irony. "Forgive me if I don't kill the fatted calf, but we weren't expecting this honor."</p><p>Lawrence was about to reply when another man appeared at the bottom of the steps. He was of Indian origin, with warm, brown skin and black eyes beneath bushy eyebrows. He wore a loose grey shirt and pants, a pair of boots with the tips slightly curved back, and a gray turban neatly wrapped about his head. He was just as aged as Sir John, but he moved with agility, and there was a spark of life in his eyes which his own master's lacked.</p><p>"You remember my manservant, Singh," his father said by way of an introduction.</p><p>"Master Lawrence!" The man exclaimed, approaching him with a wide smile. "It is good to see you."</p><p>A surge of joy overcame Lawrence, and he went to embrace him. Though Singh was ever at his father's side, he had always been a favorite with the young Talbot boys. He would regale them with old tales of his homeland and teach them the craft of marksmanship. He'd been so caught up in his doubts and fears, that Lawrence had completely forgotten about him, but it felt good to know someone was genuinely glad to see him.</p><p>"What brings you here?" Singh asked.</p><p>"I came about Ben. His fiance, Miss Conliffe, found out I was in London, and she came to the theater to ask for my help. I couldn't get away until today."</p><p>Sir John's face stirred, and a faint hint of emotion crossed his features. "Oh, Lawrence. I'm glad you came; I truly am, but it is too late."</p><p>Lawrence's cheer faded away. "What?"</p><p>"Ben's body was found four days ago in a ditch by the river. It was quite a horrific sight. I'm sure you managed to bring something suitable for the funeral."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Shakespeare quotes on this chapter:</p><p>"They whose guilt within their bosom lies, imagine every eye beholds their blame." — “The Rape of Lucrece”</p><p>“Wear this for me, one out of suits with fortune.” — Rosalind, “As You Like It”, Act 1, Scene 2</p><p>"The great dignity that his valor hath here acquired for him shall at home be encountered with a shame as ample.“ — Second Lord, “All’s Well That Ends Well”, Act 4, Scene 3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. New Mourning Moon</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Gwen laid in her bed, gazing out the window at the darkening sky. She was exhausted after constantly weeping for the past three days, but her mind wouldn't let her rest.</p><p>She and her father arrived at Talbot Hall the day after she'd received the telegram, and the first thing she'd wanted was to see Ben. She met with Sir John and demanded her right as his fiance to bid him farewell, but the old man had refused. It seemed the death of his youngest son had sunk him in a stupor and not even her pleading had moved him. She had then gone to Singh with her request, but he'd also refused it.</p><p>"He rests in peace now, Miss," was all he had said. "Besides, they are already taking him away."</p><p>Desperate, Gwen had rushed from the sitting room to the entrance of the Hall just in time to see the coroner and his assistant load a covered figure into the closed cart.</p><p>When they saw her, the men immediately removed their caps. "Is there anythin' ye be needin', ma'am?"</p><p>"I wish to give my fiance one last goodbye, sir."</p><p>The coroner's assistant, who was no more than a boy, gave her an uneasy look. "I'm truly sorry, but this ain't a sight fit fer a lady as thee," the coroner replied firmly.</p><p>"Can you at least tell me…" She choked. "Can you tell me how he died?"</p><p>"Well miss, we believe young, master Talbot may have been mauled by a bear," he answered in a low whisper.</p><p>"A bear?! There are no bears left in England!"</p><p>The coroner scratched the back of his head with one of his wrinkled hands and looked down to the ground. "Aye miss, but we've 'ad word that there's a band o' them gypsies nearby. They gotta a bear with 'em. It coulda escaped."</p><p>"It could have escaped?! Are these men foolish enough to believe that story?" Gwen thought wildly. No, Ben's death had not been normal and she was determined to learn the truth one way or another.</p><p>"You can't just expect me to believe that!" she exclaimed. "I want to see Ben!"</p><p>At that moment, her father appeared beside her and put his arms around her shoulders. "It is better if you remember Ben as he was, dear," he murmured. "I saw him and it is not a sight I wish you to carry for the rest of your life."</p><p>Gwen's determination broke and she'd turned to her father's comforting shoulder and wept, hiding her face as the men took Ben's body away.</p><p>And so Gwen prepared a funeral shroud instead of a bridal trousseau. She spent her time grieving in her room or outside in the garden. She couldn't bear to be indoors, expecting to see Ben every time she entered a room. Her father disliked her taking walks all by herself, fearing the animal that had killed Benjamin would attack her too, but Sir John had interceded on her behalf.</p><p>"I don't believe we'll be seeing the creature any time soon, Mr. Conliffe," the old man had said confidently. "Beasts wander the land in search of sustenance and once they satisfy themselves, they move on."</p><p>Charles Conliffe barely hid his shock at this comment, but he was spared any additional worries. The weather turned and brought with it rain and fog from the north, making it impossible for his daughter to be outside for extended periods. It might have made things worse for Gwen, but at least he knew she was safe within the Hall.</p><p>There was a soft knock on the door that cut through Gwen's thoughts. She slowly rose to her feet and quickly checked her appearance in the mirror before answering it. To her surprise, it was Singh and not her father, who stood outside.</p><p>"What is it? What's happened?" She demanded. The man had a strange look in his face and for a moment Gwen thought something horrible had happened once more.</p><p>"I'm sorry to disturb you, Miss Conliffe. Nothing's happened, I only wanted to let you know that Master Lawrence has arrived."</p><p>It was her turn to look startled. "Has he?"</p><p>"Yes. At the moment, he's downstairs with Sir John, but he asked me to notify you." Gwen colored slightly at this. "Do you wish me to relay a message?"</p><p>"No, thank you." Singh nodded and left.</p><p>Gwen shut the door behind her and leaned against it, attempting to remain calm. After that terrible interview, she had believed she'd seen the last of Lawrence Talbot, but he had come. Could it be that Sir John sent him notice of Ben's death? It couldn't have been because of her, but then, why make a point of letting her know he was there? Was it to torment her? To make a show of manners? Or was it to dissipate the idea that he was a haughty, snobbish man? She could only guess, but the fact that he was there somehow set her heart aflutter.</p><hr/><p>That evening, Gwen took special care in preparing her attire for dinner. Attended by Ophelia, a maid from the village, she searched through the gowns she'd packed for something suitable and discovered with dismay, that she had not brought enough changes of clothes for dinner. At any other moment, she would not have minded wearing the same dress again, but Lawrence's presence made her nervous and she wanted to look her best.</p><p>As she stared at her clothes strewn on the bed, thinking of a way to solve the problem, Ophelia shyly approached her. "Wouldn't this do, miss?" She asked, showing her a black gown she had just pulled from the wardrobe.</p><p>Gwen stared at it and realized it was a dress she had left behind by mistake in one of her many visits to Talbot Hall. It wasn't exactly appropriate for the occasion, but she didn't have much time left before the summons to dinner.</p><p>"It'll have to do," Gwen said, making a face that showed her distaste.</p><p>The dress was a combination of taffeta and velvet with sheer, gauze sleeves, and with a low neckline that revealed her creamy shoulders. She paired it with a simple set of pearl earrings and a choker of black velvet with a single pearl drop on it.</p><p>As Ophelia finished arranging her hair, Gwen knew she looked good, even pretty, despite the drab color of the dress. However, this did not prevent her from feeling exposed. To ease the feeling, she asked the young maid to hand her a black shawl embroidered with white flowers and birds. It had been a present from Ben after their engagement and Gwen greatly valued it for it had belonged to his mother.</p><p>As she threw it over her shoulders, the sadness she had managed to stave off for a few hours returned in full force. "Oh Ben," she thought. "Why did you have to go?"</p><p>"Are you all right, miss?" Ophelia asked.</p><p>"Yes, I… I just need a moment to compose myself," Gwen replied, making an effort to keep her voice steady. "Is everyone downstairs already?"</p><p>"Sir John and Mister Talbot," the maid replied as she began putting away all of Gwen's clothes. "Your father sent word he was feeling poorly and that he would take dinner in his room."</p><p>"Perfect," Gwen thought with a sigh as she headed out the door.</p><hr/><p>As she descended the staircase, Gwen could hear the rumble of the men's voices coming from the dining room. She saw Lawrence first, sitting in a laid back position, his long, lean legs stretched out before him. He was in the process of pouring himself a glass of wine and replying to something his father had said when she appeared in the doorway.</p><p>"Good evening."</p><p>Lawrence immediately rose to his feet and watched her as she made her way around the table to her usual place. There was no doubt that her beauty had struck him, but the unwanted attention made her feel uncomfortable.</p><p>"How are you, Miss Conliffe?" He said in a polite tone, bowing his head to her.</p><p>"I'm fine, thank you," she replied, allowing Singh to help her with her chair.</p><p>Sir John had not stirred, but only offered a strange grin that sat unwell in his face. "Good of you to join us, Miss Conliffe," He said in a false, cheery tone. "I am sorry your father is feeling under the weather, I rather think he would have enjoyed this evening's meal."</p><p>She gave a nod and out of the corner of her eye, noted that Lawrence waited until she'd settled before taking his seat again. The table was laden with several dishes that would have sufficed for a party of ten people. There were soup and stew and two types of meat, pastries, salad, and several types of puddings. Gwen knew Sir John had a great appetite, which accounted for his stoutness, but even this was too much.</p><p>"May I suggest you try the stuffed eel? Singh has truly outdone himself tonight." He said as he shoved the dish across the table towards her.</p><p>The plate skidded to a stop with the creature's face towards her. Gwen withheld her disgust and gave a nervous glance at Sir John, who watched her expectantly. "No, thank you," she whispered at Singh, who had approached her. "Something... something plainer will be best."</p><p>It was an awful moment and Lawrence could do nothing but look down at his food and wait for it to pass. He was embarrassed at the way his father treated Gwen; it was too bold and familiar, and it evidently made her uncomfortable. Would he have done the same thing if her father had accompanied her? He thought it probable and he couldn't help but wonder why she would have accepted to become part of a family of rude, discourteous men.</p><p>"Then again," he thought. "Ben was a different person. He would have never treated her like we did."</p><p>Dinner went on in a heavy silence. Sir John ate with gusto, not bothered in any way, while both Lawrence and Gwen picked at their food. He seemed to be lost in his thoughts and Gwen took the opportunity to study him.</p><p>Without the aura of the theater around him, Lawrence Talbot was a different person. He seemed much more approachable than before and she could now see the resemblance between the two brothers as well as that of their mother.</p><p>A portrait of the beautiful, Spanish woman hung above the fireplace in the sitting room and Gwen had often studied it, fascinated by Solana Talbot's charm and poise. It was clear to her that Ben's quiet, dignified ways came from her though his good looks were inherited from Sir John, but Lawrence was entirely his mother's son.</p><p>"Do you find your home much changed, Mr. Talbot?" She inquired to break the silence.</p><p>Lawrence looked up to her, surprised at her attempt of conversation, and then glanced briefly at his father. "Blackmoor does seem to have remained much of the same," he said slowly.</p><p>Sir John gave a hacking chuckle. "How do you mean?"</p><p>"The villagers, they seem to have the same wild ideas."</p><p>"To a man as worldly as yourself, we must be savages at the end of the world," his father said coolly. "But these ideas you're so critical about, go way back to the history and folklore of this land."</p><p>Lawrence winced internally. The old man was in a gloomy mood and this only fueled his penchant for argument. "I'm only saying that after twenty years, I would have expected the villagers to become a little more civilized."</p><p>"Ah yes," Sir John growled. "It's the age-old struggle between man and civilization. But mark my words, Lawrence, whenever civilization turns against him, that's when you discover what a man is truly capable of doing."</p><p>"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to start a squabble," Gwen interrupted, detecting the mounting tension between father and son.</p><p>"Not at all, Miss Conliffe," Sir John replied with a frigid smile. "All I'm saying is that you dismiss the natural man at your peril. Civilization is a myth, a shared fantasy, which we are all quite happy to accept."</p><p>Lawrence let out a low chuckle at this. "I find your insecurities quite strange, father."</p><p>"Insecure is the term for a man who's not comfortable in the skin he inhabits. The question is how insecure do YOU feel, Lawrence, playing at being other people as you do."</p><p>The amusement melted from Lawrence's face and he pressed his lips into a tight smile. "One can get used to anything."</p><p>Gwen suddenly stood up. "Forgive me, but I am no longer hungry."</p><p>Once again, Lawrence rose to his feet and she felt both men stare as she left the room. If Sir John and Lawrence wanted to go at it all night, then they'd have to do it alone. She was too sad to stand by and watch as Ben's family tore each other apart like dogs.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Waxing Mourning Moon</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The next day dawned crisp and cold. The rain had held off, and the constant wind had helped clear away the clouds so that the sky was clear and blue. The sun brought forth its light, though none of its warmth.</p><p>At nine, carriages began arriving at the Hall as the many acquaintances of Benjamin Talbot gathered to bid him a last farewell. The mass held in Talbot Chapel was mercifully short and solemn, though Gwen heard none of it. She had, once again, sunk into a sad, numbed state, and her thoughts strayed to the circumstances of Ben's death. Why could no one give her a straight answer? What had happened that it was too horrible for her to know?</p><p>After the service ended, the coffin was placed in a carriage pulled by four black horses, that would take him to the family mausoleum. The procession that followed behind was a somber one. The priest and his attendants walked at the head of it, praying softly. Right behind them, Sir John and Lawrence walked side by side, followed by Gwen and her father and the rest of the attendees.</p><p>For once, Sir John looked the part of a wealthy noble. His hair and beard were trimmed and neatly combed, and he wore a suit and top hat that fit him well. His tiger fur overcoat looked odd among the sea of black and gray, but no one would have dared comment on it. He walked casually, with his hands behind his back, as though he were out for a stroll instead of attending his son's funeral. In comparison, Lawrence looked more subdued. He had on a dark gray suit, and instead of a coat, he had a heavy woolen cloak draped over his shoulder in a dapper fashion. A black homburg hat threw a shadow over his face, but the sadness etched on it was clear to everyone.</p><p>Gwen herself felt a dreary heaviness slip into her as she walked supported by her father's arm. She wore a high-necked black gown with sleeves edged in fur, a wide-brimmed bonnet, and a black veil over it. With each step she took, she thought of a similar outfit, which had been prepared for a happier occasion, and which would now lay in a trunk for years until the moths finished it off.</p><p>In a short time, the procession reached the mausoleum, and once the coffin was placed on its shelf, the family approached to pay their last respects. Sir John mumbled something under his breath and quickly turned away. Lawrence said nothing, but placed a hand on the lid, as though it were Ben's hand. When her turn came, Gwen put a single white rose on the casket and spoke softly.</p><p>"Ben, from the moment I met you, my heart was yours. Nothing would have made me happier than to be your wife, but somehow this was taken from us. I shall miss you more than life itself, darling. Goodbye."</p><p>The priest gave the last benediction over the tomb, and then the large, metal doors were shut with a loud clang, signaling the end of he who had once been Benjamin Talbot.</p><hr/><p>Back at the house, the mourners took their time to pay their respects to the family. The sitting and dining rooms were full of people eating and drinking, and speaking of the tragedy in hushed tones. Many glances turned to Gwen with pity in their eyes, but it was Lawrence who caught everyone's attention. Most knew that Sir John's eldest son lived in America, but not that he was a famous actor until someone who saw him in the theater commented on it. After that, there was no rest from the curious people who came up to him to ask him about his life and whether he had met other famous actors.</p><p>After an hour, Lawrence excused himself from a particularly nagging woman and her daughter and slipped outside to clear his mind. With nothing but his walking stick, he set out down the path that led through the gardens and into the woods surrounding the Hall. He wandered through the deciduous trees until his feet led him down a venue he'd trodden many times before.</p><p>As far as Lawrence could recall, two trails could be taken through the forest surrounding Talbot Hall. The first path led to the lake that belonged to the estate, while the second skirted the property and joined the road to the village about a mile down. One day, while exploring this second path, he and Ben discovered a smaller, less trodden one. At his brother's insistence, they had followed it and had come upon a clearing beside a ravine and a small waterfall. The spot was not far from the house, but it was secluded enough that they decided to claim it as their own.</p><p>"How could I ever forget?" Lawrence murmured, smiling despite the sharp longing he felt. He was still caught up in his reflections when he stepped into the open space and was startled to see that there was already someone there.</p><p>Gwen turned around at the sound of his footsteps upon the dry leaves, and she quickly stood up, brushing away any dirt that had stuck to her dress.</p><p>"Hello," she said with an awkward smile.</p><p>"I did not expect to find you here of all places, Miss Conliffe," he said. "Am I disturbing you?"</p><p>"No, not at all. I just needed to get away for a moment."</p><p>Lawrence gave an understanding nod and looked off into the distance. He had been hoping for an opportunity to talk to Gwen in private, but their meeting was so unexpected that he couldn't think of anything to say.</p><p>"Ben told me you used to come here often as children," Gwen offered. "He brought me down here several times because he enjoyed the place so much."</p><p>"It was our refuge," Lawrence admitted.</p><p>"From what?"</p><p>Even as boys, Ben and Lawrence had known their father was a difficult man. He was a severe figure who commanded respect and deference from everyone, especially his sons, and he took it upon himself to school them in the art of being gentlemen. This meant spending a great deal of time outdoors with Sing and Sir John riding, shooting, and hunting. The boys loved it, but there times when their father's temper would become violent and unpredictable. Solana did what she could to protect her sons from the worst of it, often deflecting her husband's anger towards herself. However, it was Singh alone who could weather the raging episodes and calm down his master. When Ben and Lawrence grew old enough to become aware of the situation, their mother would send them outside, allowing them to spend hours playing in the surrounding areas.</p><p>"You mean from whom," Lawrence said after a while.</p><p>A knowing look crossed Gwen's eyes. "Your father has a way of being distant; he's always been so with me. Ben used to say it was because I reminded him of your mother and that so did you."</p><p>Lawrence looked away, feeling a bitter bile climb up the back of his throat. "Which is why he shipped me off to my aunt in America," he concluded sarcastically.</p><p>"Surely your father had his reasons?" Gwen replied carefully, wary of the personal tone the conversation had just taken.</p><p>Lawrence moved closer to where she stood and stared down at the frothing rush of water for a while. "I don't know how much Ben told you about our family," he began. "But our mother took her life when I was no more than twelve years old."</p><p>"I can't remember the details of course, but I was the one who found her. She was lying on the ground near one of the fountains in the garden, a knife in her hand. My father was there too. He held her in his arms as she bled to death and when I saw him I just..." He made a pause and then cleared his throat. "He sent me to an institution the very next day. A year later, I was in a boat leaving England."</p><p>Gwen was silent, but the horrified look in her eyes revealed her feelings. Lawrence gave her a wry smile. "I hardly recall any of that period except through painful flashes, which is why I've never come back to this place until now."</p><p>Gwen was shocked. She had known about Solana's unfortunate death, but not that she'd killed herself. It certainly changed the perspective she had about the woman in the portrait, and for that matter about Lawrence. His reasons for avoiding Talbot Hall and his father were evident now, and she was sorry that, in her ignorance, she had demanded so much from him. She shivered. She could not imagine the shock a suicide might have on an adult, let alone a child, but to think of Sir John's cruelty in the aftermath was too much to bear.</p><p>"I had no idea. Ben never said anything." She whispered.</p><p>Lawrence turned towards her, sensing her conflict. "My brother would have never discredited his family, and while the story is known around here, it's yesterday's news."</p><p>Gwen gazed up at him. "I am sorry you've had to carry this burden, Lawrence. It must be a terrible thing to bear on your own."</p><p>The sound of his name sent a jolt coursing through him, but years of practice allowed Lawrence to maintain a thoughtful look on his face. "Thank you," he murmured, then he cleared his throat. "I've been meaning to talk to you. I wanted to apologize for my behavior; it was quite unacceptable."</p><p>Gwen's eyes widened, and she tried to think of something to say, but Lawrence went on. "There's also something that I want you to have." He reached inside his coat and offered her a small, leather purse. "These were Ben's belongings. The coroner gave them to me when I went to see him yesterday."</p><p>Shock and then sadness crossed Gwen's face as she inspected the contents of the purse: there were some coins, a pocket watch bearing the Talbot crest, a lion head ring, and a small, leather case. She slipped the ring into her thumb and was unable to contain a sob as she opened the case to reveal her portrait.</p><p>The silence that followed made Lawrence uncomfortable and he waited a few moments before speaking again. "I'll go now, but if there's anything you need just let me know," he murmured.</p><p>"I just want to know what happened to him," Gwen answered immediately, meeting his gaze with red-rimmed eyes. "I wasn't allowed to see him or to say a proper goodbye." I just want... She choked. "I need to know the truth."</p><p>Lawrence swallowed the knot that had formed in his throat. He understood her pain and frustration all too well; it had been the same for him when his mother died. However, he was momentarily glad she had not seen Ben. Just the mere thought of his body mangled, destroyed, and half-rotting as he'd seen it in the Blackmoor icehouse sent shudders down his spine.</p><p>She drew her handkerchief out and dabbed at her eyes. "I'm sorry. The past, few days have been too much for me."</p><p>"It doesn't matter," he said in a soft voice. "I understand your sorrow better than you think."</p><p>She let out a sigh and the smallest hint of a smile showed in her lips.</p><p>"May I walk you back to the Hall?"</p><p>"Of course," she answered, and without any hesitance, she took his offered arm and returned to the house beside him.</p><hr/><p>The following day, the Conliffe's prepared to go back to London. Both father and daughter stood outside, chatting with Sir John as Singh supervised the loading of the luggage into the carriage.</p><p>"Are you sure you won't stay another night?"</p><p>"I thank you, Sir John, but I've got lodgings for us near the train station, we plan to leave early tomorrow," Charles Conliffe replied. "Besides, we don't want to impose any more than we have to."</p><p>At that moment, Lawrence appeared in the doorway, and Gwen turned her attention to him.</p><p>"When do you return to London? Or will you join your company somewhere in Europe?"</p><p>"I am in no condition to be playing Shakespeare to the masses," Lawrence confided. "I will remain at Talbot Hall until I find out what happened to Ben."</p><p>Warmth and gratitude filled her eyes, and Lawrence felt his heart speed up for a moment. "Thank you," she whispered.</p><p>Lawrence was about to say something when his father appeared beside them. "Your father is waiting, Miss Conliffe," he said.</p><p>She nodded and gave Lawrence a brief smile of goodbye as she allowed him to lead her to the carriage.</p><p>"Goodbye, Miss Conliffe," Sir John said. "We shall miss you very much at Talbot Hall."</p><p>Taking a step back, Lawrence watched the departure with mixed feelings. Despite the awkwardness of their first meeting, he had grown to like her. Her beauty was evident from the first moment he met her, but the few moments they'd spent together had shown him she was also sweet, clever, and unafraid to speak her mind. She had also a lightness of spirit that had somehow helped him brave the shadows of his past.</p><p><em>"Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, who is already sick and pale with grief, that thou her maid art far more fair than she," </em>he recited under his breath, as the cold chill of fear, slowly began creeping over him.</p><p>However, as the carriage drew away, he saw Gwen peer out the window, and he could have sworn her gaze remained on him until they were out of sight.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Shakespeare quotes on this chapter:</p><p>"Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, who is already sick and pale with grief, that thou her maid art far more fair than she.” — Romeo, “Romeo and Juliet”, Act 2, Scene 2</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Full Mourning Moon</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Before he'd given Gwen the last of his brother's possessions, Lawrence had sorted through them, hoping to find a clue as to what had happened to him. He found nothing unusual about them, except for a small copper medallion. Upon closer inspection, Lawrence identified the rough engraving as the image of a man surrounded by wolves or dogs. He could not tell whether they were hunting or protecting the saint, and he wondered how his brother could have ended up with such a curious thing.</p>
<p>The night before the funeral, after Gwen had left them, father and son had retired to the sitting room. They drank brandy and conversed about many things: life in America, Lawrence's successful, acting career, and even touched upon his mother. It was only when the conversation lulled that Lawrence remembered the medallion and showed it to his father.</p>
<p>"That is Saint Columbanus, an eastern saint," Sir John said after no more than a glance. "Gypsies are known to worship him."</p>
<p>"Gypsies? Why would Ben have anything to do with them?"</p>
<p>Sir John stoked the fire meditatively. "Whenever gypsies came into the county, we would pay them a hefty sum to keep their trouble-making to a minimum. In exchange, the youths and others could enjoy themselves with the dark-haired ladies. Benjamin was our negotiator with them, and I think he rather enjoyed it."</p>
<p>Lawrence considered this. "But why him? It seems this would be something for the constable or magistrate to handle, not you or Ben."</p>
<p>Sir John had moved away from the chimney and began going around the room, putting out all the candles. "What you must understand is that your brother needed to come into his own and bear the responsibilities of his rank. He would have inherited after me, and as such, he needed to become a figure of authority. I spoke with the interested parties: Colonel Montford, Mr. Kirk. Even Doctor Lloyd and Constable Nye were involved. In the end, we agreed it was a suitable task for him to carry out, that's all."</p>
<p>Lawrence said nothing, absentmindedly twiddling the medallion in his hand. "You never said what the official ruling on Ben's death was. I heard people in town say he was mauled by a bear."</p>
<p>The room was dark enough that the moon shone in through the tall windows, and Sir John set up an old, tarnished telescope. "That's the story going around, yes," Sir John admitted. "I have seen the work of a Bengal tiger or a Kodiak bear; nature at its most vicious. But I've never seen anything quite like what happened to Benjamin. No animal could have done it."</p>
<p>"So, you think it was a man?"</p>
<p>Sir John remained in silence for a moment, peering into the telescope and then adjusting the knobs. "I hate to imagine what sort of man is capable of the cruelty that was done to my boy."</p>
<p>"A mad one?" Lawrence offered and then froze, realizing what he'd just said. Madness was not a subject he wanted to discuss openly with his father.</p>
<p>"Perhaps. I don't doubt someone could hide out there, biding their time until unwitting victim happened upon them," Sir John agreed calmly. "The moor can hold many secrets."</p>
<p>He then looked through the telescope lens and remained in silence. <em>"That orbed maiden with white fire laden, whom mortals call the moon glides glimmering o'er my fleece-like floor..."</em></p>
<p><em>"By the midnight breezes strewn,"</em> he ended, rising from his seat and joining his father.</p>
<p>"She exerts an immense power, doesn't she?" his father asked, moving to the side so that his son could look. Up close, the moon looked even more impressive: an enormous silver globe hanging against the dark backdrop of the night, its surface pocked and scarred by who knew what phenomena.</p>
<p>"If you're planning on playing detective, I'd suggest you do so in the light of day," Sir John went on. "It'll be a full moon tomorrow, and in case your lunatic theory is correct, I'd rather you spent the night indoors."</p>
<p>Lawrence inwardly rolled his eyes. He didn't believe the story that an animal had killed Ben, but neither did he think a man, even a mad one, could have committed such a horrible crime. No, his instinct told him that there was more to the gypsies than his father was letting on. He decided then to keep the trinket and go to the gypsy campsite just outside of Blackmoor, maybe there he would find some answers.</p>
<hr/>
<p>The following afternoon, after the Conliffe's had left, Lawrence rode out to investigate the gypsies. Though he had dismissed his father's warning as a silly superstition, he did take a loaded rifle with him. After all, there was no sense in being careless, not after what had happened to Ben.</p>
<p>The campsite stood half a mile beyond the village, located close to a circle of rocks where the old druids had worshipped their pagan gods. The gypsy wagons were arranged in two semi-circles around a large bonfire, and even from a distance, the music of fiddles and flutes could be heard. At the moment, there was a flurry of activity as the gypsies brushed down their mules and prepared their supper.</p>
<p>When Lawrence entered the camp, a boy immediately offered to watch his horse. He dismounted, gave the child a shiny penny with the promise of another, and showed him the medallion.</p>
<p>The boy did not look surprised. "You want to talk to Maleva," he said, pointing to one of the smaller wagons. "Wait for her inside."</p>
<p>Lawrence did as he was told. The inside of the wagon was close but neatly arranged with a small table and two wooden stools at its center. From the walls hung bunches of herbs that dispelled an odd combination of fragrances, and an assortment of boxes and baskets were stacked up together and tied with rope. Lawrence thought it must be a hard, yet liberating life, wandering to and fro with all your possessions packed in a single wagon, not knowing what each day would bring.</p>
<p>Suddenly, the curtain at the other end of the wagon pulled back, and an old woman stepped inside. She was dressed all in black, and she wore an intricate, woven shawl draped about her thin shoulders. A beaded scarf covered her hair, yet Lawrence could tell it was grey streaked with white Her features had wrinkled over time, but there was a knowing look in her eyes that spoke of wisdom and spirit.</p>
<p>"Are you Maleva?"</p>
<p>"I am," she answered, sitting across the from him in a flurry of ruffles and incense. "And who might you be?"</p>
<p>"I'm Lawrence Talbot."</p>
<p>Maleva's face did not show any sign of recognition. Instead, she stared straight at him, stripping away the barriers he'd built around himself over the years with a single, piercing glance.</p>
<p>"Have you come to learn your future?" She asked as she picked up a large deck of cards and began shuffling them.</p>
<p>"Not really, no."</p>
<p>"Your past then. There are many things to be learned from it as well."</p>
<p>Lawrence reached for the small pocket inside his coat, pulling out the medallion. "I want to know if you sold this to my brother," he said softly. "It was found on his body when he died."</p>
<p>"Just who was your brother?" She asked, remaining stoic.</p>
<p>"Benjamin Talbot, he was a negotiator between the townspeople and your tribe."</p>
<p>Her eyes briefly looked down at it, then at him. "I did not sell it to him. It was a gift."</p>
<p>Lawrence's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "A gift? Why?"</p>
<p>"He was a kind man, and he needed protection... as do you." She added as she took three cards from the deck and placed them facing down on the table.</p>
<p>Lawrence blinked a couple of times to assimilate what Maleva had just said. "What did Ben need protection for? Did you know he was in danger?</p>
<p>But Maleva ignored him. "He knew his fate. It is time you knew yours."</p>
<p>Lawrence sighed. It seemed the woman was not willing to give him all the information he needed unless he played along. He reached for the cards, not without a sense of foreboding, and flipped them over for her to see.</p>
<p>Maleva took a moment to study each card. "There has been suffering. Oh, so much suffering in your life," she said, pointing at the Hanged Man. "A boy left alone. A family torn apart. No home, only distance. But as much as you try, you cannot escape it."</p>
<p>She went on. "The Wheel has turned and all is set in motion. You have come back to end the cycle, but it will require a sacrifice."</p>
<p>"What kind of sacrifice?" He asked in a low tone.</p>
<p>"The greatest sacrifice," she said softly. "But there is hope." Her hand hovered over the last card. "The Star will guide you. Do not forget it. If you do, you'll be lost to the darkness."</p>
<p>"What does all of that mean?!" Lawrence demanded in exasperation.</p>
<p>"I cannot see further," Maleva replied, looking up at him once more. She seemed weary, as though the act of reading the cards had sapped her energy.</p>
<p>"It doesn't matter. My future means little to me," Lawrence replied, shaking his head. "But I made a promise. I need to know what happened to Ben."</p>
<p>The woman's features softened, and she let out a long sigh, as though coming to a decision. "I know nothing more than what the cards foretold for your brother. He was kind to me and mine, and I thought that giving him a warning would be enough."</p>
<p>Lawrence clasped her hand, desperately. "What did you warn him about?"</p>
<p>"That there is a curse upon your house, and it is ..."</p>
<p>Suddenly, a horrific scream echoed across the woods. A few moments of dense silence followed, and then the roar of a beast was heard. Lawrence turned to Maleva, but she'd gone deathly pale. "For your life, you must go."</p>
<p>"But..."</p>
<p>"Go now! Don't stop. Don't look back." She pulled him by the arm towards the door, putting the medallion on his hand.</p>
<p>Bewildered, Lawrence obeyed and jumped down from the wagon. Chaos reigned outside as men, women, and children ran to and fro. Screams could be heard from the other end of the encampment, and then Lawrence saw it. On the far side of the bonfire stood a hulking mound of muscle and hair. It looked about the size of a bear, but there was something odd about its hind legs, and how it stood upright like a man. A bullet ricocheted off its shoulder, and it turned in the direction the shot had come. The creature took a mighty leap and knocked the man prone before tearing into his neck. Lawrence's throat went dry, and for the first time in his life, he experienced pure and unadulterated fear.</p>
<p>A panicked whinny brought him back to his senses, and he saw his horse tied to the railing of one of the nearby wagons. The poor animal was pulling and kicking in a panicked attempt to free itself. Lawrence ran toward it, and as he did, he remembered the rifle he'd left in the saddle holster. He drew the weapon before untying the horse and giving it a hard slap on the hindquarters. It needed no further encouragement, and it galloped off into the night, it's wild neighing echoing across the moor.</p>
<p>With a gun in his hands, Lawrence felt the terror recede slightly. He wasn't what the Americans called a crack shot, but his aim was decent enough, and if he could just find some vantage point, he could hopefully put several bullets into the creature's back.</p>
<p>He ran back into the fray of the gypsy camp, looking for his prey, and then he saw it exit one of the wagons, looking for something else to kill. The beast sniffed the air and drew its teeth back in a wicked grin. Without hesitation, Lawrence lifted the rifle to his shoulder and took the shot. He saw the bullet impact the dark fur near the shoulder of the beast, but it did not appear to hurt it. Instead, it set off at a run on the outside of the circle of wagons. Lawrence ran as well, taking a shot whenever he could until the gun jammed. Cursing under his breath, he stopped to fix it and reload, keeping an eye out for the beast when he suddenly heard a woman screaming.</p>
<p>Not too far from him, in the open space between the wagons, a woman turned around in circles, weeping and crying out someone's name. She was holding a small cape, and Lawrence realized it must belong to her child. He changed direction, moving towards her when he caught sight of a giant shadow running towards the woman. Adrenaline shot through him, spurring him into action. He ran as he'd never done before, widening his stride, trying to get to her before the beast.</p>
<p>A little girl ran up to the woman at the same moment that the creature prepared to pounce on them. Making a last, desperate effort, Lawrence took a running leap. He caught the woman and child in his arms, and the three fell to the ground just as a mass of fur and muscle flew above them, barely missing them by inches. Lawrence rose to his feet, gun at the ready, but the creature had not circled back. He helped the woman to her feet; her eyes were wide open, and she moved her mouth moved though no sound came out. The girl sobbed uncontrollably, hiding her face in her mother's shoulder.</p>
<p>"Go! Find Maleva and stay with her!" Lawrence ordered.</p>
<p>On the far end of the wagon-circle echoed a volley of gunfire followed by the roar of the beast. Lawrence stopped to pick up some bullets from one of the fallen men and was in the process of loading them when he caught sight of the boy that had offered to care for his horse. He slipped out from underneath a wagon and ran from the circle of light into the darkness. beyond</p>
<p>"Boy! Come back!"</p>
<p>The child must have heard him, but he was too scared to stop. He kept running, not into the woods, but the open moors. Lawrence swore under his breath and followed after him.</p>
<p>The night was overcast, and only a little moonlight filtered through the dense fog. The cold air chilled Lawrence, and he shivered despite the sweat that poured from his brow. Through the swirling mists, Lawrence saw the outline of an old cairn. There were about a dozen stone slabs arranged in two concentric circles, with the largest one rising in the middle.</p>
<p>As he approached them, his hunting lessons came back to him, and he began taking deeper breaths to slow down his heart rhythm. He moved in long strides, carefully shifting his footing around large tussocks of grass like a well-practiced dancer.</p>
<p>"Boy!" he called out in a hoarse whisper, but nothing answered back.</p>
<p>A quail hidden in the tall grasses suddenly took flight, and Lawrence felt his whole body tense. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he recalled his father's stories of men who had been attacked by the prey they'd been trying to catch. He backed up against one of the stone slabs, hiding in its shadow, pressing his back against it. He kept the rifle up at all times as he scanned his surroundings, but the mist impeded his sight. He was certain the boy had run in that direction. Had the beast gotten to him?</p>
<p>Somewhere behind him and to his left, he thought he heard a faint sound. Lawrence's hair stood on end, and his body trembled involuntarily. He had never been in a situation like this before, and the tension was killing him.</p>
<p>He jammed the rifle to his shoulder and slowly moved into the open. The fog was so dense on the ground that it seemed he was walking on a roiling sea. Lawrence approached the largest slab of stone, and he turned once more to watch his surroundings. Suddenly, the wind picked up, clearing away the mist, revealing Lawrence's shadow and that of the monolith behind him. At that moment, he detected movement at the top of the slab, and without hesitation, Lawrence turned and fired. He hit the creature on the shoulder as it launched itself at him, its jaws open wide for the kill.</p>
<p>It landed on him, knocking his breath from his stomach, and it bore down on his shoulder and neck. Lawrence let out a horrific cry that sounded as though it came from someone else entirely. The scent of rotting meat wafted down to him, and he could feel his flesh ripping apart as the monster's jaws pulled. He screamed again, wishing with all his might to die just so the pain would stop.</p>
<p>A volley of shots came out of nowhere, striking the grass nearby, and suddenly the crushing weight on top of him was gone. His hand immediately went to his neck, and hot, warm liquid spilled over his fingers. The air had a metallic tang to it and, though he heard voices calling him, darkness was quickly closing over him,</p>
<p>"I am going to die," he thought, as his conscience slipped away from him. "I am going to die like my mother and my brother. I am going to die by the curse of the same beast."</p>
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<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Waning Mourning Moon</h2></a>
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      <p>The Conliffe's had just entered their London home when a maid approached Gwen with a telegram. Her heart quickened, thinking it might be from Lawrence, but when she read the contents with a single glance, she felt the ground give way beneath her.</p>
      <p>
        <em>Lawrence attacked. Stop. Still alive. Stop. Condition critical.</em>
      </p>
      <p>"Dear God, not again," she whispered, falling back in one of the chairs in the parlor.</p>
      <p>All at once, her father was at her side. "Gwen? What is the matter? What happened?" She handed the letter to him in silence, and he read its few words with apprehension.</p>
      <p>Though he had liked Benjamin very much, Charles Conliffe had always felt uneasy about Gwen marrying into an obscure family. When their acquaintance first began, he took the liberty of making inquiries about the Talbots, and what he learned had surprised him. Sir John and Benjamin were the remnants of an old, aristocratic family that could trace their roots back two hundred years. They had somehow weathered the political turmoil in England and had managed to remain wealthy in money and lands. Sir John had spent most of his youth in India and only returned to England to claim his inheritance. After that, he returned to Africa and spent many years traveling the breadth of the continent. He was in his late thirties when he finally decided to settle down in Talbot Hall and married the beautiful Solana. She was of Spanish origin, but little else was known about her, other than her tragic death. After that, the family fell apart as Lawrence, the eldest son, was sent to America, and Benjamin remained behind with his father. In truth, there was nothing about the family history that had stood out to Charles, and so he had given Ben his blessing to court his daughter. Those days, Gwen had been so happy that it had helped ease his concerns. Who would have guessed that three years later, things would be drastically different? That the future Benjamin and Gwen had envisioned for themselves would be no more?</p>
      <p>Charles looked up from the telegram to meet his daughter's eyes. She must have guessed his thoughts because she spoke before he had time to draw breath.</p>
      <p>"Papa, we must go back."</p>
      <p>"No, Gwen. This is not any of our business."</p>
      <p>"Please," she begged. "It is my fault Lawrence was injured."</p>
      <p>Mr. Conliffe did a double-take. "Your fault?! That is preposterous."</p>
      <p>"It isn't." She pleaded. "I asked him to find out what happened to Ben."</p>
      <p>Charles sighed. "I know you think you owe them something, but you've got your own life to lead, my dear. Benjamin's loss does not mean you are tied forever to that family."</p>
      <p>His last words hurt her deeply. "I know, but if Lawrence dies... I wouldn't be able to live with myself!" She burst out in a trembling voice and then broke down weeping.</p>
      <p>Charles' resolution caved. Her suffering was too earnest, too raw, and it was clear it was still too soon for Gwen to let go. He pulled out his pocket watch and checked the time. He had business in London that just couldn't wait, and to take more time off to go back to Talbot Hall was unthinkable.</p>
      <p>"Take the cab back to the station. If you go now, you can make the noon train," he said softly, placing a hand on her shoulder.</p>
      <p>Gwen looked up in surprise and then began crying once more. "Thank you, papa," she said, standing up to hug him.</p>
      <p>A few minutes later, Gwen's trunk was loaded on to the coach, and Charles was helping her in. "Take care, my girl," he said as she held his hand tightly. "Send me word when you arrive. I'll come to see you as soon as I can."</p>
      <p>Gwen assented and placed a kiss on her father's hand before he shut the door, and the vehicle began moving. As she rode through the city, staring through the window, she had only a single thought.</p>
      <p>"Please, dear God. Let him live."</p>
      <hr/>
      <p>Singh was already standing outside when the carriage turned into the gravel drive that led to Talbot Hall. In an instant, he was at the door to help Gwen out, while he gave instructions to the driver to place her trunk by the entrance.</p>
      <p>"Miss Conliffe, I am glad the telegram reached you," he said as a manner of greeting.</p>
      <p>"Oh, Singh. Is he... has he...?"</p>
      <p>"No. Master Lawrence yet lives, but we fear for him."</p>
      <p>Together, they hurried into the house that she'd abandoned only a day before. Singh led her to the dining room, explaining in a low tone that a group of gypsies had brought Lawrence back that morning.</p>
      <p>"Did they say who did this?"</p>
      <p>Singh shook his head. "They were going on about the devil being loose."</p>
      <p>Gwen would have hardly credited that claim, but when she saw the damage done to Lawrence, she almost believed it. He laid on the dining room table, covered in so much blood that one couldn't distinguish the color of his clothes. He was deathly pale and breathing with difficulty, and it was all Gwen could do not to cry.</p>
      <p>She had done this. If she'd not spoken, Lawrence would be safe and well. And yet, this proved that whatever had killed Ben was still out there and that it would continue to claim victims if allowed to go unchecked.</p>
      <p>"How is Sir John?" She asked in a faint tone.</p>
      <p>"As well as can be expected," came the answer.</p>
      <p>Gwen turned and saw the old gentleman resting on a window seat in the next room. His hair was disheveled as ever, and heavy bags weighed under his eyes. He looked even more desolate than when Ben had died.</p>
      <p>She went to him, placing her hand on his shoulder. "Oh, Sir John, how could this happen?"</p>
      <p>"I warned the boy," he said, as though she hadn't spoken. "I warned him of the danger. Full moon and all."</p>
      <p>Gwen ignored his ramblings. "Has the doctor been summoned?"</p>
      <p>"Hmm?"</p>
      <p>"The doctor from the village. We need to fetch him," she repeated.</p>
      <p>"I've already done so, Miss Conliffe," Singh answered. "I left word at his home this morning. He was visiting a nearby village, but they promised to send him along as soon as possible."</p>
      <p>"A lot of good a doctor will do for him," Sir John said spitefully.</p>
      <p>Gwen knelt down before him. "Please, don't say that, Sir John. Lawrence will get well. You must not despair."</p>
      <p>He shrugged his shoulders in a way that seemed to say he didn't care one way or another. Gwen thought it might be the shock of the news, and she turned to his servant for aid.</p>
      <p>"Singh, could you take care of... Sir John?" Her words slowly died as she saw disgust and loathing reflected in Singh's eyes. This surprised her for she had known him to be devoted to Sir John since childhood. Was it possible he held the old man responsible for what had happened to Lawrence?</p>
      <p>"Singh?" she said softly. He started, and the hard glint of his eyes melted away as he looked at her. "Please attend to Sir John. I will wait for the doctor."</p>
      <hr/>
      <p>Doctor Lloyd arrived half an hour later, just as dusk descended. He was greeted by Gwen and immediately led to Lawrence's side. After a quick inspection, the doctor removed his jacket and rolled up his sleeves. "We need to act quickly if we are to save him," he said in a calm tone. "It's amazing he's still alive even after so much blood loss."</p>
      <p>Gwen nodded grimly. "What do you need from me, doctor?"</p>
      <p>The man hesitated. "I don't think this is appropriate, Miss Conliffe," he said. "It won't be a pretty sight, and I wouldn't want to injure your sensitivity."</p>
      <p>Gwen set her shoulders and lifted her head in an almost haughty manner. "I thank you for your concern, but there really is no one else. Sir John is very distraught and Singh is tending to him. Let me help you."</p>
      <p>The doctor saw no argument would deter her, and giving a brief nod he gave her instructions and set to do his work. Together, they cut and removed what was left of Lawrence's shirt as well as the rags the gypsies had used in place of bandages.</p>
      <p>"My God! They've sewn him up so rough, it's a wonder the skin hasn't torn!" Doctor Lloyd exclaimed when the wound was revealed.</p>
      <p>It was a massive injury, covering almost all of Lawrence's shoulder and part of his neck. Makeshift stitches were used to close it, and angry, red skin, puckered painfully in some places. The doctor prodded the sutures gently, while Gwen kept her attention focused on Lawrence to steady herself.</p>
      <p>"It's a poor stitching job, but there's not much I can do about this," he declared after several minutes of silence.</p>
      <p>"Won't it worsen his condition?"</p>
      <p>"I can't tell, and I dare not remove the stitches to open it. It would risk harming him more. We'll just have to wait and see."</p>
      <p>An hour later, Lawrence's wound was cleaned and dressed, and Doctor Lloyd and Singh carried him up to his room. He remained unconscious throughout the procedure, and though the doctor said it was better for him, Gwen couldn't help being concerned. She was just placing a cold compress on Lawrence's forehead when Sir John shuffled into the room.</p>
      <p>"The prognosis isn't good, Sir John," the doctor said as he finished putting away his instruments. "Should your son live, and he does cling fervently to life, he will likely lose the movement of his arm if he does not lose it altogether." The old only sighed as one reconciled with his fate.</p>
      <p>"Is there some way to prevent this? Any way at all?" Gwen interposed.</p>
      <p>Doctor Lloyd considered this for a moment. "He's been lucky so far, but we need to keep the infection off that wound as best we can. This means constant washing and fresh bandages three times a day. If by some miracle we get it to heal properly, then we can think of light massages to the area, to make sure the tissue and muscle knit properly."</p>
      <p>"I'll see that it is done, Doctor Lloyd," Gwen replied. "Thank you so much."</p>
      <p>He bid her and Sir John farewell and headed out, escorted by Singh.</p>
      <p>"Miss Conliffe, pleasant though your presence is, I can assure you there is no need to take this burden upon yourself. Singh can very well tend to my son." Sir John said, approaching her.</p>
      <p>"Lawrence was trying to find out what happened to Ben at my request. It is the least I can do," she replied.</p>
      <p>"Nevertheless, I thank you for returning to us during this difficult time. Will your father be joining us as well?"</p>
      <p>Gwen blushed slightly. "He has business keeping him in London, but he is certain to come back for a couple of days, if that is all right with you, Sir John."</p>
      <p>"Very well," he replied. "I shall keep his room ready and I'll make sure Singh is available to help in whatever way you see fit."</p>
      <hr/>
      <p>And so Gwen remained almost indefinitely at Talbot Hall. She would rise early, get dressed, and immediately head to Lawrence's room to check on him. Singh would already be there with a bowl of warm water and rags, ready to follow her instructions. They worked in comfortable silence, cleaning the wound, treating it, and then bandaging Lawrence's shoulder. Afterward, she would join Sir John for a brief breakfast and return to her patient's room where she spent the rest of the day. To while away the time, Gwen embroidered wrote letters to her father and friends and read every book she could get her hands on. Sir John would sometimes come in during the afternoon and take tea with her, but it was with Singh with whom Gwen developed a quick friendship.</p>
      <p>She had always thought of him as a mysterious figure who rarely spoke, but once she got to know him better, she discovered he was a truly fascinating person. He told her about his childhood and youth in India, and how he came to be in service of the Talbots. He described the many places he had seen while traveling with Sir John, and the hardships they'd faced. He also told her stories of Ben and Lawrence when they were small, and once in a while, if he was willing, he would answer her questions about Solana Talbot.</p>
      <p>"You're very loyal to him, Singh," she pointed out after Singh described a particularly harsh trip in which Sir John was injured during a hunt, and they were separated from their party. "Didn't you ever think of leaving him and living a life of your own?"</p>
      <p>"Truthfulness, fidelity, self-control, and purity; those are the principles by which a Sikh abides, Miss Conliffe," Singh replied. "If I ever thought of abandoning my duty, I just needed to remind myself of them."</p>
      <p>"But you never longed for a home or a family of your own?" Gwen asked curiously.</p>
      <p>"There are invisible bonds that tie men together for life. Because of this, I forwent any wish for a family so that Sir John could have his own, just as I swore to protect the Talbots with my dying breath." He ended, looking over to where Lawrence lay. His expression had a tinge of sadness in it, and Gwen imagined how hard it was for him to witness the demise of those he'd promised to preserve.</p>
      <p>She wanted to say something when a bell rang somewhere in the depths of the house. Singh immediately excused himself and left Gwen to muse over their conversation. He was indeed a loyal servant, yet she wondered just how deep the bond between the two men ran. They must have had many experiences together for him to travel halfway around the world, doing someone else's bidding.</p>
      <p>She looked down at Lawrence. He was fighting for his life because of her. Why had he done it? Why had he put himself in peril? Why had he come back to Blackmoor at all?</p>
      <p>"For Ben," she thought, and her eyes filled with tears. It was such a simple answer, that she was surprised she hadn't thought of it before.</p>
      <p>Lawrence had returned because he cared about Ben, and she had returned because she knew Ben would not have wanted his brother to suffer his same fate. Somehow, without her realizing it, a bond was created between Lawrence and herself. On an impulse, she reached out and took Lawrence's hand in her own.</p>
      <p>"Please, Lawrence. You must live," she begged. "You must live for me."</p>
      <p>Gwen was so caught up in the turmoil of her thoughts that she failed to notice the shadow standing just outside the doorway, watching the scene in silence.</p>
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<a name="section0007"><h2>7. New Wolf Moon</h2></a>
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    <p>One day, almost three weeks after the attack, Singh entered Lawrence's room bearing a tray with tea, scones, and some biscuits. Gwen was fast asleep in her usual chair, a shawl wrapped about her shoulders and a book on her lap. In the afternoon light, the dark circles underneath her eyes were more prominent, and her skin was nearly transparent from its pallor.</p><p>"She is wearing herself too much." he thought as he made for the table at the center of the room. "I'll insist she take the day off tomorrow. I can watch over Lawrence myself." He thought, glancing at the bed.</p><p>The loud rattle of silverware and dishes woke up Gwen with a start. She opened her eyes saw Singh standing by the table, still as a statue. Beyond him, she noticed Lawrence was awake, sitting up on the edge of the bed. She couldn't see his face from where she sat, but whatever joy she initially felt transformed into an uneasy feeling. He sat listlessly, with his arms held tightly to his body. His neck was craned to one side, and he stared at the window, but gave no indication he was aware of their presence.</p><p>"Singh, please fetch Sir John and Doctor Lloyd immediately," she said in a hushed tone. The servant hesitated. He had also noticed the strangeness of Lawrence's behavior.</p><p>"I'll be fine," she said with more confidence than she felt. "He is probably just disoriented."</p><p>Singh looked like he wanted to say something else, but he limited himself to a nod and rushed from the room. Once alone, she approached him slowly, almost whispering his name. "Lawrence? Are you all right?"</p><p>He started and turned in the direction of her voice. He looked haggard, and his skin had a sickly hue after being indoors for nearly a month, but his eyes were bright and alert.</p><p>He blinked several times as though confused. "Gwen?" He asked hoarsely.</p><p>She let out the breath she'd been holding and felt sweet relief course through her. Doctor Lloyd had once mentioned that, despite the physical healing of his body, they would also need to worry about healing Lawrence's mind.</p><p>"We need to be careful, Miss Conliffe. The aftershock of such a horrifying experience might affect his thoughts. It might be possible he won't remember anything about the event and fail to recognize those around him or where he is."</p><p>Yet, Lawrence had recognized her. She quickly went to his bedside table and picked up a rag, which she dipped in a bowl of water infused with herbs. She then approached him and gently began wiping away the beads of sweat from his forehead.</p><p>"Welcome back," she said in a surprisingly sweet tone.</p><p>Lawrence looked up at her and found there were withheld tears in her eyes. It confused him. Why was she crying? Was it for him?</p><p>He wet his lips to speak. "I thought you were leaving."</p><p>She let out a small, gasping chuckle. "I thought I was too, but this place is impossible to escape."</p><p>Lawrence smiled faintly and then shut his eyes. He was shaky and disoriented, and he couldn't remember how he came to be in his bed or even back at Talbot Hall. The last thing he remembered was the conversation he had with the gypsy woman, Maleva, but after that, there was only a black void. He tried using an actor's trick of recalling the emotions he'd felt rather than his memories, but it was a mistake. A wave of terror and pain came over him with surprising speed. His heart began pounding inside his chest and for a moment, Gwen thought he was going to faint.</p><p>"Lawrence, are you feeling ill?" She asked, placing a hand against his cheek while she brushed back his hair.</p><p>That single touch was enough to help him calm down. The emotions dissipated almost as soon as he'd conjured them. "No, I'm fine. I just need a moment," he murmured, leaning against the touch of her hand. Gwen brought him a sense of warmth and comfort he had not felt in a very long time.</p><p>At that moment, Sir John entered the room. He looked rather the worse for wear, with dark bags under his eyes and an unkempt look that made it seem as though he too had been ill.</p><p>"Awake at last?" he growled, approaching them. Lawrence opened his eyes, and Gwen retreated a step, coloring slightly.</p><p>"Barely," Lawrence answered with a ghost of a smile. "I feel very weak."</p><p>"At least you're alive." Sir John's reply was cold and almost harsh. "You can thank Miss Conliffe for that."</p><p>Gwen's blush deepened. "No thanks are needed, Sir John. I like to think it is what Ben would have wanted."</p><p>The men's faces changed as soon as she said this. Sir John's eyebrows shot up in surprise, but his demeanor became less hostile, while Lawrence's faint smile vanished, and he grew serious and withdrawn. At that moment, Singh came in followed by Doctor Lloyd, who'd been coming up the drive and had met the servant just as he rushed out to fetch him.</p><p>"Welcome back into the world, Mr. Talbot," he greeted.</p><hr/><p>An hour later, the doctor was done with his inspection. "Incredible!" He murmured almost to himself. "A few weeks ago I would have said you'd never use that arm again." He handed Lawrence a glass with some vile-tasting liquid and motioned him to lay back down.</p><p>"Is he out of danger?" Gwen asked.</p><p>"I would say so, and all thanks to you, my girl." At this, Lawrence turned her way, and Gwen blushed once more. "However, I'd keep a close watch on the wound and the patient. We don't want to be careless," the doctor added distractedly as he closed his bag and put on his coat.</p><p>"What about exercise?" Lawrence put in. "Am I allowed to go out?"</p><p>Sir John had been silently watching from a corner of the room, but he stepped forward at this. "I don't think it's prudent to go running off into the woods again, Lawrence. Not after what happened, despite the warning, I gave you."</p><p>Doctor Lloyd looked at both men, hesitated and then replied. "I should think a walk now and then could help, but there's to be no sport until that arm can be properly used."</p><p>Lawrence accepted this mutely, and he rested back against the cushions, closing his eyes as his father and Gwen escorted the doctor from the room. He had been unconscious for nearly a month! Had anyone else survived? Had there been any more attacks? Had they found whatever beast had done it?</p><p>Again, he tried to recall that night, but could only see flashes. He remembered the fear, though. The fear that something was coming for him and that no matter what, it would find him. He swallowed back the bile that rose in his mouth and willed himself to remain calm. Once he was well enough, he would set out again and find the beast. He would find it and kill it.</p><hr/><p>A couple of days later, Lawrence was finally strong enough to move about the house accompanied by Gwen, Singh, and sometimes his father. Sir John had suddenly retreated into one of his bouts of silence, speaking little to anyone and answering in grunts only. Gwen would not have minded as much had he not become cold and distant with her.</p><p>During the time of Lawrence's convalescence, she had almost come to enjoy the old gentleman's company, but now he hardly acknowledged her. Once, she'd been carrying Lawrence's meal in a tray, and they'd met in the landing of the stairs. She had greeted him with a small smile, but the old man had only stared with cold, unfeeling eyes. She felt discomfited and a little afraid of him, and she'd quickly excused herself from his presence, but the sense that he was somehow angry at her did not abandon her. Her father had noticed it as well when he'd come up from London a couple of times. Gwen had excused Sir John by saying it was only concern for his son, and she promised that once Lawrence was awake and out of danger she would return home.</p><p>Exactly a week after Lawrence had awoken, a carriage stopped on the leaf-strewn steps of the Hall. From it descended a thin, rigid man in his late forties, dressed in a long, beige gabardine and black bowler hat. He motioned to the driver to wait for him and turned to inspect his surroundings. His gray penetrating eyes took in the dirty walls and dead climbing vines that surrounded the Hall, and he wondered how many secrets lay hidden behind them.</p><p>He slammed the rusted knocker three times and had to wait a while before he heard footsteps on the other side of the door. The locks unbolted, and to his great surprise, he found a young woman before him.</p><p>"Good morning, miss," he said in a crisp voice as he removed his hat. "I am sorry to inconvenience you, but I'm looking for Mr. Lawrence Talbot. I was told I might find him here."</p><p>The young woman looked surprised and slightly wary of him. No doubt visitors were few those days if the rumors were true. "Who might I say is calling?"</p><p>"Francis Aberline, Detective inspector of Scotland Yard."</p><p>Her expression cleared, and some of the tension in her eased off. "Do come in."</p><p>As the inspector stepped into the foyer, Singh appeared and Gwen asked him to see if Lawrence felt well enough to receive a visitor. He nodded and bowed to them both, before disappearing up the stairs.</p><p>They stood in silence for a couple of minutes, and Gwen was conscious once more of the shabbiness of the Hall. There were cobwebs in the corners of the vaulted ceilings, dirt and leaves strewn all over the floor, and the windows were so grimy that the light that filtered through them had a greenish tinge. Gwen was surprised at how quickly she'd become accustomed to it, and she made a mental note to talk to Singh about bringing in some maids to clean up the main rooms.</p><p>"Lawrence will be down shortly, Inspector."</p><p>"I've got plenty of time, Miss..."</p><p>"Gwen Conliffe," she said, offering her hand.</p><p>Aberline returned the greeting with a polite shake. "From what the townspeople said, I had thought only the old gentleman lived in the Hall."</p><p>Gwen lowered her eyes, and a slight flush crept over her cheeks. "He does. I was Benjamin Talbot's fiancée. He died two months ago."</p><p>"I am sorry for your loss," he said softly and almost sincerely. He was only confirming the information he'd gathered at the pub, but he could see the pain was still fresh in the young woman's heart. "Have you been at Blackmoor all this time?"</p><p>At that moment, a figure shuffled out from one of the corridors. Inspector Aberline turned, and he gave a respectful bow of acknowledgment. "Ah, Sir John Talbot. I have heard a lot about you, sir."</p><p>The old man looked up at Aberline with evident distrust. "What is it that you might have heard about me, sir?"</p><p>"You have a reputation for being an outstanding marksman, and rumor has it there isn't a beast in the land that you've not brought down."</p><p>"I suppose I might have done so in my youth, but those days are long gone." The old man replied coldly. "What brings you to my home, sir? Surely it is not the game."</p><p>"As a matter of fact, it is. You could say that I am after a particular sort of prey, sir, Which is why I've come to talk to your son. Word has reached the Yard that there is a murderer loose on the moors, and I intend to hunt this madman down."</p><p>"And Lawrence is needed in this procedure? I didn't think our finest men required civilian aid, but then the country is not what it used to be. Murders on every headline, unknown serial killers lurking on the streets..." The disdain in Sir John's tone was not lost on the inspector, but he was familiar with the ways of country lords, who thought themselves above the law.</p><p>"Indeed, Sir John," Aberline replied cooly. "There has been an insurgence of criminals and miscreants, which is why we are so intent in investigating every case that comes to us. If I have read the reports correctly, your youngest son was killed two months ago, and just last month a dozen people in a gypsy camp were attacked. Your eldest son, though wounded, is the only witness we have available for questioning. It would be of great help if I could speak to him for half an hour."</p><p>As he spoke, something shifted in Sir John's eyes, and Aberline could have sworn he detected a spark of uncertainty in them. "Lawrence would be most delighted to lend his help, Inspector, but he has suffered some memory loss. I'm not sure what use he'd be to you in such a state."</p><p>Up until that moment, Gwen had remained quiet, listening to the men's conversation. It was clear Sir John disliked Inspector Aberline, but she felt he was someone to be trusted. All this time, she'd felt guilty about sending Lawrence to face this unknown threat, but now that the police were involved, she was sure an answer to the killings could be found.</p><p>"Lawrence has indeed suffered a traumatic experience," she interrupted. "But I do believe he will want to talk to you at some point, Inspector."</p><p>Sir John whipped about towards her, almost menacingly. "Miss Conliffe, after all the work you've done in taking care of my son, I fear reliving the attack would be fatal to him. Isn't it better to wait until he is feeling better in body and soul?</p><p>Gwen did not know how to answer. She felt it was their duty to help Aberline in whatever way they could, but she did not have the authority nor the wish to challenge Sir John in his own home.</p><p>"It will only be an unofficial interview, of course," Aberline put in, sensing the tension between the two. "Something quick to reassure Mr. Talbot that we are looking into this."</p><p>Sir John seethed and would have begun arguing when a sharp bark echoed in the high ceiling above. All three jumped at the sound and turned to look at Lawrence, who was coming down the stairs, followed closely by Samson. He moved in long, slow strides, and on his face, he bore a calm, indifferent look. Gwen realized he had put on the mask of the aloof, stage actor and was ready to begin his performance. It somehow bothered her, though she could not tell why.</p><p>The inspector quickly stepped forward and offered his hand. "Francis Aberline, Scotland Yard. It is an honor, Mr. Talbot, I'm a huge admirer of your work. I had the fortune of seeing you perform in London. Very impressive."</p><p>"The honor is mine," Lawrence said as he offered a tight smile. The inspector had shaken his hand rather brusquely, and a sharp pain spread from his shoulder to his neck.</p><p>"I've heard of your recent troubles and trust these will not prevent your return to the stage."</p><p>Lawrence thought there was a barb hidden in the comment, but Aberline kept a blank face. "I thank you. Shall we?" He motioned towards his father's study.</p><p>As the group dissipated, Gwen turned to watch Lawrence's retreating figure, and her brow furrowed as a sense of unease grew in her heart.</p><hr/><p>"So you're saying it was an animal?"</p><p>"None I've ever seen, but an animal nonetheless," Lawrence said as he threw a log into the chimney fire and went to sit down before Aberline.</p><p>"The gypsies and villagers probably got a better look at it than I did, especially at… at the end."</p><p>"The fact of the matter is that you're the only witness, Mr. Talbot. None of the locals that entered the camp survived. As for the gypsies, they are long gone from Blackmoor. It would be difficult to track them down." Aberline said, leaning back on his chair and threading his fingers together before him.</p><p>"I am sorry for that," Lawrence said, attempting to hide his shock beneath a distant manner.</p><p>"At some point, I would like to bring a specialist to inspect your wound. The miracles of science can perhaps give us an insight into who or what did this."</p><p>Lawrence frowned at this. He was glad to cooperate with the police, but he certainly did not want to be made into a spectacle. "Doctor Lloyd from town has been attending me along with Miss Conliffe and Singh. You can ask them whatever it is you wish to know."</p><p>Aberline's eyes narrowed, sensing Lawrence's unease. "Naturally, it would be at your convenience. We do have some accounts from the local police and coroner. The evidence they found was that the attack was too ferocious, too vicious for a creature."</p><p>"How so?"</p><p>"As far as we know, there was no purpose to the carnage, and those who died had nothing in common other than being in the wrong place at the wrong time." He paused, taking a sip of the drink he'd been offered. "And then there's the fact that there are no real predators left in the wilds of England, which begs the question if it might not have been a man who did this."</p><p>Lawrence's stomach clenched at this; his father had said the same thing. "What sort of a man could have done this?" he asked.</p><p>"A man who's been institutionalized, perhaps? Someone with a history of violence, whose actions have deemed him unable to cope with life as the rest do."</p><p>Lawrence looked up from the drink he'd been nursing, and this time he had no trouble assuming a cold attitude. "I understand your meaning, and I resent it, Inspector. No doubt you are aware of my personal history as I am aware of yours. Weren't you in charge of the Ripper case a few years back? That didn't turn out well, did it?"</p><p>He saw he'd struck a nerve and, Aberline's polite manner dissipated. "I can see you are a direct man, so I'll be direct myself. I am not your enemy, Mr. Lawrence, but as an actor, you've played the likes of Hamlet, Othello, and Macbeth; all with that same face. It makes one wonder what else could be hiding beneath."</p><p>"Then I am sure you'll have more success finding the culprit in London, where most Shakespearean actors reside. Lawrence ended, rising to his feet. "Good luck with your search, Inspector."</p><p>Aberline's expression was neither surprised nor offended. He picked up his hat and got up as well. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Talbot." He said politely. "I will return in an official capacity and bring that specialist by, at your convenience, of course."</p><p>Lawrence did not deign this with a reply. He turned to the large windows that overlooked the forest and did not wait to see if the inspector left. As he watched the landscape, he felt the distinct chill of fear and unease settle within him, and he wondered what kind of trouble was brewing for him now.</p>
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<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Waxing Wolf Moon</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>After Inspector Aberline had gone, Gwen entered the study carrying a large tray loaded with food.</p><p>"Lawrence?" she called out.</p><p>She ventured farther in, but only found Samson lying on a rug, gnawing away at a bone. At the sound of her voice, the dog's ears pricked up, and it stopped its chewing to watch her. Gwen had always found the creature a little unnerving, and she usually preferred to stay out of its way. She turned to go back to the kitchen but stopped when she heard Samson whine softly.</p><p>The wolfhound had risen, and it was now facing the large glass doors that faced the extensive grounds around the Hall. Puzzled, Gwen walked over to where it stood, and the dog wagged its tail at her.</p><p>Outside, Gwen saw the empty veranda and a path that went from the house to the forest. Since Lawrence hadn't come out of the study at all, it was safe to assume he had gone out for a walk.</p><p>After Sir John's reaction, she had felt uneasy about the interview with the inspector, and she wished to talk to him about it. However, she was hesitant about disturbing him, when he might need some time alone. At that moment, Samson whined again and scratched at the glass with his paw. He looked up at Gwen with such human-like eyes that she instantly made up her mind. Setting the food tray down on a nearby table, she opened the door and quietly slipped outside.</p>
<hr/><p>Memory was a curious thing. As an actor, it was one of the first skills Lawrence had developed, and the one he'd valued the most. He was often able to rattle off full speeches without having studied the script but once, and it was a quirk of his to quote Shakespeare to express his mood.</p><p>However, Lawrence had never considered how much of his past had been lost to him until he returned home. Talbot Hall was a place where time seemed to have stopped, despite the decay of its walls; and Lawrence was surprised by the constant assault of long-forgotten memories.</p><p>After the interview, the walls had seemed stifling and oppressive, and Lawrence had escaped to the gardens. There, his feet had picked a small trail that brought him to the shores of the small lake that bordered the Talbot Estate. It had taken him a moment to realize that he had arrived at one of his mother's favorite walks, but he was comforted by it, as though her spirit had somehow led him there.</p><p>Solana Talbot had always loved nature, and as far as Lawrence could recall, she'd spent endless hours outside. She tended to the fields and orchards that surrounded the Hall and took special care with the gardens, but what she loved best was to stroll down to the lake. There she would while away the hours by its banks or sitting on an old, stone bench, feeding bits of bread to the ducks and fish that lived there. The boys had liked coming along with her as well. Lawrence smiled sadly as he recalled how his mother had laughed and wrinkled her nose in disgust whenever they caught a frog in the shallows and showed it to her.</p><p><em>"And all our yesterdays have lighted fools the way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle. Life's but a walking shadow."</em> He thought to himself, as he bent down, gathering a few stones.</p><p>He moved closer to the edge of the water, and with practiced ease, wound his arm back, and flipped a stone out on to the lake. He counted four skips before it sank. He repeated it with various degrees of success, and as he did so, he brooded over the conversation with the inspector.</p><p>He could not recall the last time he had lost his temper, but Aberline's direct implication about his mental state had both angered and panicked him. There was no reason to bring it up, even if it had been an unofficial conversation, and Lawrence worried that his reaction had given the inspector an incentive to suspect him.</p><p>For years he had been haunted by nightmares of his time at the asylum and, it bordered on cruelty to think that the traumas of a ten-year-old could somehow turn a man into a bloodthirsty maniac. The beast was real. He had seen its enormous figure and heard its blood-curdling howl, had felt its weight on him as it tore through his flesh. It was a thing conjured up from a nightmare.</p><p>"And it is still out there," he muttered helplessly as he watched the sunlight play over the water.</p><p>A slight breeze played over the surface, and the ripples bounced back the light in a slightly hypnotic effect. The more he looked at it the more strange shapes played before Lawrence's eyes. He saw hulking shadows, large slabs of stone, and a massive wolf coming for him, its jaws wide open. He pressed his fingers against his eyes, and let out a long, shuddering sigh. He felt like he was losing his mind.</p><p>"Lawrence?"</p><p>In a moment, the darkness that had hovered over him vanished as he saw Gwen descending the path from the house towards him. "Is everything all right?"</p><p>This was a question he had come to expect from Gwen and one that he couldn't answer honestly. Was he all right? He didn't think so, but he didn't want to add his secret fears to be an added burden for her.</p><p>"I'm fine," he replied softly, unconvincingly.</p><p>She maneuvered the leaf-strewn ground and came to stand beside him. "What did the inspector say?"</p><p>"Well... he asked a lot of questions, some very impertinent."</p><p>Gwen's heart sank. Though she believed the investigation was important, she had not wanted Aberline to disturb Lawrence in any way. Perhaps Sir John had been right in insisting that the inspector wait for a more suitable time to speak with him.</p><p>"I'm sorry. I feel so responsible for what's happened to you," she said in a voice thick with emotion. "If I hadn't sought you out, none of this would have happened. You'd be on your way to Europe or back home to America, moving on with your life."</p><p>"No, you must not feel that way," he said firmly, meeting her eyes with an earnest gaze. "It was right that I came back."</p><p>Lawrence turned back to the lake, and as he sent a rock skipping into the distance as he recited: <em>"There is a special providence in the fall of a sparrow. If it be now, 'tis not to come; if it be not to come, it will be now; if it be not now, yet it will come."</em></p><p>Gwen mulled over his words. They spoke about time and place, coincidence, and fate. Was he trying to tell her something, or was it merely a way of expressing his feelings? Either way, she was comforted to know she wasn't the only one who often felt trapped by the twists and turns of fate.</p><p>"Thank you, Mr. Shakespeare," she said, a hint of amusement in her voice.</p><p>Without saying anything Lawrence bent down to pick up a few more stones, and as he rose, he offered one to her. Gwen was puzzled, but when she caught the mischievous glint in his eye, she let out a soft laugh.</p><p>"No, I can't."</p><p>"Try it," he coaxed.</p><p>Gwen took the stone from his hand and stepped closer towards the edge of the lake. She threw it and heard it fall into the water with a plunk. Turning to him, Gwen shrugged her shoulders in slight embarrassment. "I can't make it skip like you. I don't know how."</p><p>Lawrence gave a low chuckle. It was highly unlikely she would have ever enjoyed this sport. "You have to flick it." he demonstrated swinging his long arm out and waving his wrist. "May I show you?" He asked, offering another stone to her.</p><p>"Yes," Gwen answered as she made to take it from him. However, Lawrence caught her hand in his and, in a single, fluid motion, stepped right behind her.</p><p>"When you throw it, turn your wrist up and whip it."</p><p>Gwen felt her face flush hot as he swayed with her, throwing her arm out in front of her. He spoke softly. His breath brushed against her cheek and the deep rumble of his voice vibrated beside her, and suddenly she found herself leaning back and nestling against him. An inner voice chastised Gwen for her behavior, but somehow his proximity eased the tightness she felt in her heart.</p><p>"Wrist up and whip it, and make sure you swing your hips," he ended, placing both hands briefly on her waist before releasing her.</p><p>Gwen took a few, shaky steps towards the shore, and tried to recall the swinging motion Lawrence had made. She moved her arm back, flicked her wrist forward, and watched the smooth stone fly from her hand, kissing the surface three times before sinking.</p><p>"Oh!" she laughed, turning to him in delight.</p><p>Lawrence clapped and returned her smile. This was the first time he had ever heard Gwen's laughter or seen her smile brightly, and it made something ache inside of him. Would that he could do something to keep her as happy as she was at that moment.</p><p>For a while, they continued with their diversion in comfortable and silence. There was nothing else to think about but choosing the best stones, aiming, and then watching them disappear across the lake. Lawrence was far better at it than her, but there was no competition, only a sense of companionship and togetherness.</p><p>"What's it like in New York?" she asked, as she tested the weight of a stone in her hand.</p><p>She threw the stone and watched it skip five times. This was the farthest she had managed and, she was well-pleased with herself. Laughing, she turned to Lawrence to see his reaction, but his demeanor had completely changed. He now stood tense and alert with his neck craned towards the woods.</p><p>"Lawrence, what is it?"</p><p>"Did you hear that?" he asked tersely.</p><p>Gwen strained her ears, but all she heard were the sounds of birds chirping and the wind blowing the fallen leaves over the ground. "I can't hear anything."</p><p>He shook his head and forced a smile that sat unwell on his lips. "I thought I heard horses."</p><p>Gwen nodded slowly, but the enchantment of the moment had broken. The wind picked up, and the ever-moving clouds drifted in erasing the sunlight and returning the world to gray monotones.</p><p>"You are cold," Lawrence said, seeing her shiver. "Let's return to the house."</p>
<hr/><p>A few minutes later, they re-entered the study and found it still and silent. Samson had wandered away, probably back to Sir John's side. The food tray Gwen had brought remained on top of the table. It was still warm enough to be enjoyable, and Lawrence accepted it at her insistence. He wasn't very hungry, but the meal allowed him to mull over his thoughts, while Gwen sat by the chimney, reading out loud to him.</p><p>Lawrence felt strange and discomfited. No doubt, he was pushing himself too much after a week out of bed, but there was something that bothered him. He didn't feel like himself. It was as if something had taken over his soul, but it lay dormant beneath the surface. When he looked in the mirror, he saw his face, but there was a distortion in it. His senses had grown more acute, and his mood, usually calm and collected, was all over the place.</p><p>Shaking his head, he turned his attention to Gwen, who was primly turning a page at that moment, and he wondered what it would be like if they were truly the only people at Talbot Hall. He pictured a light and airy house with blooming gardens; a home where there were no darkened passageways choked with cobwebs and dust. He imagined the study illuminated by cheerful sunlight or lit by a dozen candles as the evening breeze blew in. "What a life that would be," he thought.</p><p>The sudden clattering of hooves on gravel distracted Lawrence from his thoughts. Swiftly, he went to the window and saw three men on horseback with another four in an open cart coming down the drive. He recognized two of the riders from the only time he'd been at the Blackmoor pub. They'd been gossiping out loud about Ben and his mother, and Lawrence had tossed his drink in their faces. The other one was Doctor Lloyd, who looked up towards the house uneasily. The man driving the cart was the hawk-nosed priest who'd been at Ben's funeral and the rest were probably men from the village. His stomach plummeted and, it was all he could do to keep from throwing up. First Aberline and now this.</p><p>Without wanting to draw attention to himself, he grabbed his coat off the back of a chair and made for the door. "Excuse me, Gwen. There's something I need to attend to."</p><p>Puzzled, the young woman watched him go and quickly went to the window seat. She saw Lawrence emerge from the house and was surprised by the congregation gathered outside. She had spent enough time around Blackmoor to recognize Colonel Montford, Mr. Kirk, and Reverend Fisk accompanied Doctor Lloyd. Apart from Sir John, these were the most respected men in town, and she wondered what they wanted with Lawrence when three, rough-looking men stepped down from the cart and surrounded Lawrence. He turned to face them and, they lunged at him as one.</p><p>Letting out a small cry, Gwen ran from the study to get help. She had just reached the staircase when she bumped against Sir John.</p><p>"It's Lawrence!" She gasped. "They're... they're attacking him!"</p><p>The old man must have already been aware of this because he uttered nothing besides a low grunt. He went to the rifle case that stood by the door and withdrew an old, hunting gun and a few bullets. Gwen watched with apprehension as he loaded and then cocked it. It was unnerving that a man could act so calmly when there was a pressing need for action. When he was done, she followed Sir John outside where the scuffle had turned into a brawl.</p><p>Two villagers had thrown themselves at Lawrence from the right, distracting him from the third, who held the rope ready to wind about him. Lawrence had been in enough fights to know he had to shake them off quickly, or they would easily submit him. He bent his knees and shifted his weight to the upper part of his body. Growling fiercely, he launched himself off the ground and managed to topple one of them. He then threw a punch at the nearest one with his left hand, hitting him squarely in the jaw. The man backed away, howling in pain, but the last quickly took his place. The men on horseback and the priest watched the fight in passive silence.</p><p>Lawrence continued to struggle with the remaining man when suddenly he received a blow on his back. He let out a grunt and fell to his knees as pain seeped through his spine. He could hear the men gathering close to him, tying his neck and hands. At that moment, the lone shot of a rifle rang out. The bullet struck one of the statues on the edge of the courtyard, and it exploded, sending shards directly into Colonel Montford's face.</p><p>He screamed in pain at the same time his horse reared in panic. "My eyes! Damn you, Talbot!"</p><p>"I'm terribly sorry, Colonel. I meant to shoot you," answered Sir John coldly as he approached the group. "Sadly, I'm not the marksman I used to be. I must be getting old."</p><p>"He's cursed!" The reverend squawked, pointing at Lawrence. "We are told his wound heals in an unnaturally."</p><p>"They are saying was bitten by a werewolf and, it's nearly the full moon. Let us deal with him," said Mr. Kirk, the magistrate added.</p><p>Sir John Talbot ignored their strange accusations. "You know you are trespassing on my land, and by law, I could shoot you on the spot right now. My Sikh manservant is on the roof and happens to be a crack shot at the repeating rifle."</p><p>The men's faces paled, and they looked up at the windows and parapets of the Hall, expecting the shooting to commence to any moment.</p><p>"He'll kill all of you and then some before he has to reload, so please take yourself off my land. And if I see any of you trespassing this way again, I won't be so civil, if you take my meaning."</p><p>Sir John then turned his eyes to Doctor Lloyd, who had conveniently placed himself behind the others. "That goes double for you, Doctor. You ever set foot in my land, and I'll make sure you never exercise your practice anywhere ever again."</p><p>Lawrence stood up and shrugged the rope off himself. Rage bubbled inside of him, but he limited himself to brush the dust from his clothes. The men turned their mounts around and rode away in a single file, turning back every once in a while to check if Sir John was still there.</p><p>"Good day to you, Colonel," he called out, a wolffish smile appearing on his face.</p><p>Lawrence followed his father back into the house and saw, both to his pleasure and regret, that Gwen had watched the entire thing from the front step.</p><p>She smiled with gratitude as Sir John went by, but it was on Lawrence, she centered her attention. "You're bleeding," she pointed out, taking out her handkerchief and dabbing at his lip.</p><p>Lawrence gently took the cloth from her and motioned her to go back into the house. Before following her in, he turned one last time to look back at the specks of dust that signaled the men's retreat.</p><p>"How can they possibly think he is a threat to them?" He heard Gwen exclaim as he stepped into the dark foyer.</p><p>"Well, he is a stranger here in Blackmoor, Miss Conliffe, and that makes him very dangerous." His father answered, though his tone was more curt than usual.</p><p>"Thank you," said Lawrence, leaning against the banister and looking at his father sheepishly.</p><p>"Yes," dismissed Sir John, removing the remaining bullets from the rifle. "You can also thank Singh when he returns from the village. You're not the only one in the family who can act, you know."</p><p>"Samson!" called Sir John as he began climbing the staircase. The dog had been lying on a rug, and he quickly followed his master.</p><p>Once he was gone, Gwen and Lawrence let out a small, nervous laugh. It had certainly been a frightening moment, but to think that Sir John had scared off seven men with such a simple threat was ludicrous.</p><p>"I'll never live this down," Lawrence laughed, brushing his hand across his face.</p><p>"Your hands!" Gwen gasped.</p><p>Lawrence looked down and saw that there were several cuts and scratches on his palms, and his knuckles had blood on them. "It's okay, it doesn't hurt."</p><p>Gwen let out a sigh. "Come, let's get something to clean that."</p><p>She headed for the dining room and, Lawrence followed in her wake. Neither one noticed Sir John hiding in the shadows halfway up the stairs, nor the dark look that crossed his features at their exchange.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Shakespeare quotes on this chapter:</p><p>"And all our yesterdays have lighted fools the way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle. Life's but a walking shadow." — Macbeth, “Macbeth”, Act 5, Scene 5</p><p>“There is a special providence in the fall of a sparrow. If it be now, 'tis not to come; if it be not to come, it will be now; if it be not now, yet it will come.” — Hamlet, “Hamlet”, Act 5, Scene 2</p>
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<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Full Wolf Moon</h2></a>
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      <p>As Lawrence waited for Gwen in the dining room, he replayed the fight in his mind. He had been outnumbered and still had managed to withstand the attack of three strong men. Gingerly, Lawrence stretched his arm back and forth and rotating his shoulder. There was no sharp stab of pain or throbbing of the muscles. Was this normal? Or was he truly cursed?</p>
      <p>"Did they hurt your shoulder?"</p>
      <p>Lawrence jumped up from his seat. He turned around and saw Gwen returning with some rags and bandages, a bottle witch hazel, and a bowl of water. He let out a shuddering sigh and wiped some of the sweat that had formed on his forehead.</p>
      <p>"No, on the contrary," he answered quickly after seeing the frown of concern on her face. "It feels much stronger than before. I was able to hold them back, all three of them."</p>
      <p>"I'm glad," she sighed with relief. "I was afraid they had hurt you badly. It was a beastly thing to do."</p>
      <p>Lawrence made a non-committal sound and settled back down on the table as Gwen set to work. She dipped one of the rags in the water and took his hand, dabbing at the wound so as not to cause him any pain. Lawrence was surprised by the natural way in which she'd taken his hand and, though it quickened his heartbeat, he said nothing.</p>
      <p>"You're worried," she stated after a long period of silence. "Is it because of what the men said?"</p>
      <p>Lawrence started at this. He was surprised by how aware she was of his emotions, and though it pleased him, it also made it very difficult for him to lie.</p>
      <p>"Because you really shouldn't listen to them," she continued. "Those men are backward and foolish. They're everything I hate about this place."</p>
      <p>"So, you don't think there's anything wrong with me?"</p>
      <p>"Of course not, Lawrence," she murmured, stepping closer to him as she dabbed his lip with a clean rag. "I know you are a good man."</p>
      <p>Lawrence attempted to utter a response, but Gwen's proximity was intoxicating. All the sounds around him became muted and dull, and he heard nothing more of her speech. She was so close that he could see the fine hair that covered her cheeks, and the flickering light glittering off her skin. Her scent allured him, numbing his senses so that all he could only think of her: her face, her lips, her skin. He wanted to reach out and touch her, let his hands run down her body.</p>
      <p>Without Lawrence realizing it, a dark, primitive force awoke within him, urging him on. He leaned closer to Gwen, and for a moment, he thought he could detect the rush of blood flowing through her veins. Her heartbeat pounded loudly in his ears, hypnotizing him. If he bent down, he could almost kiss her neck... or tear it apart. And then he heard the growl of a feral beast rumble in his own throat, ready for the attack.</p>
      <p>This snapped him out of his trance at the same time he grabbed Gwen's wrist with surprising strength. She jumped, frightened at his abrupt reaction, and let the cloth fall.</p>
      <p>"Lawrence?"</p>
      <p>He released her hand as though it had burned him and got to his feet. His brow was covered in sweat, and he couldn't bring himself to look her in the eye.</p>
      <p>"You'll have to excuse me," he choked out before rushing from the room.</p>
      <hr/>
      <p>Lawrence remained in his chamber for the rest of the afternoon. He paced up and down, thinking, trying to make some sense of the situation. He recalled his visit to the gypsy camp and Maleva's words about protecting Ben. Had she warned him because she knew the truth of the creature that roamed Blackmoor? She had also said his family was cursed. Could the two possibly be related? He shook his head in frustration. He had never been one for superstition, but he couldn't deny something unnatural was happening to him.</p>
      <p>He slid his hands into his pockets and his fingers bumped against a cold, metal disk. He drew it out and saw it was the medallion of Saint Columbanus and the pack of wolves. He couldn't remember having it with him after speaking with Maleva, but it seemed an odd coincidence that he should find it at this moment. Was it a sign?</p>
      <p>Steeling himself, Lawrence reached a decision. He went over to the large mirror above the commode of his room. He removed his coat, untied his vest, and undid the cravat at his neck. Holding his breath, he pulled his white shirt down, revealing his right shoulder, which was still bandaged. He unwound the cloth and let it fall to the ground as he inspected his body. To his horror, the skin underneath was unmarked. There was no sign of tearing or scarring, nothing that demonstrated he had been mauled by a beast.</p>
      <p>Terrified, he slammed the mirror down with one hand. Something was wrong with him, and this confirmed it. It was impossible to think that the attack, which had nearly claimed his life, had left his body without a single blemish. In his mind, he heard the echoes of voices speaking to him.</p>
      <p>
        <em>"He was bitten by a werewolf!"</em>
      </p>
      <p>
        <em>"It makes one wonder what else hides beneath."</em>
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      <p>"<em>She exerts an immense power, doesn't she?"</em></p>
      <p>"Stop. Stop. Stop." he uttered through gritted teeth, putting his hands over his ears.</p>
      <p>
        <em>"A week ago I would have said you'd never use that arm again"</em>
      </p>
      <p>
        <em>"It is nearly the full moon."</em>
      </p>
      <p>
        <em>"As much as you try, you cannot escape it."</em>
      </p>
      <p><em>"You are a good man, Lawrence."</em> Gwen's voice cut through the din, and suddenly everything was quiet again.</p>
      <p>He lifted his head and looked about him. He was sweaty and panting heavily, yet he now knew what he had to do. If he was cursed... If there was evil coursing through his veins, then he needed to protect Gwen, even if it was from himself.</p>
      <p>He looked at the clock on his bedside table. It was only a little after six, surely he could ride out to the town and be back before dinner. Without another thought, he buttoned his shirt back up, put on his vest, and grabbed his coat.</p>
      <hr/>
      <p>Gwen was awoken by the sound of knocking on her door. She lit the candle beside her bed and listened: it was soft, yet insistent. She looked at the clock over the chimney in her room, the hands signaling it was a little after midnight. Worried that something might have happened to Lawrence, she slid her robe over her nightgown and went to open the door. To her surprise, it was he who stood outside, but his face bore a mask of torture that frightened her.</p>
      <p>"What is it? What's happened?"</p>
      <p>"You have to leave tonight. Please, pack your things," he said in a deadened tone.</p>
      <p>Gwen was startled by the coldness of his words. Their conversation by the lake had led her to believe they had grown closer, had she read things wrong? Had she been too forward? She had not acted upon her feelings, much as she'd wanted to, but maybe he had picked up on them. Did he feel guilty because she'd been Ben's fiancé? Was that reason enough to be kicked out of the house in the middle of the night?</p>
      <p>"Did I do something?" she asked, bewildered.</p>
      <p>"There's a coach to take you down to the village. There's a room ready for you at the inn, as well as a seat booked for you in the early train back to London. I'll wait for you downstairs." He said, ignoring her question and turning his back on her.</p>
      <p>"Lawrence, wait!" She called out, rushing forward and grabbing his arm.</p>
      <p>He whipped about so suddenly that she nearly collided into him. They stood still for a moment, the air between them charged electric. There was so much that needed to be said and so many things holding them back, but Lawrence was relentless. He took a step away from her and this small action hurt Gwen far more deeply than she would have imagined.</p>
      <p>"What are you afraid of?" She whispered, fighting the tightness that formed in her throat.</p>
      <p>Lawrence could see the tears in her eyes, and a wave of guilt struck him with full force. It killed him to do this, but the fear for her safety was greater than any desire he had for her. Gently, he took her by the shoulders (the only contact he dared) and spoke as earnestly as he dared.</p>
      <p>"It isn't safe here. This house, Blackmoor... they are not safe. You need to go now because if anything ever happened to you, I'd never forgive myself."</p>
      <p>Gwen's eyes widened as she recognized her words in him. They were words of despair and fear, not contempt. She held his eyes for another moment and then nodded her head.</p>
      <p>"Be ready in five minutes."</p>
      <p>Gwen quickly returned to her room and gathered the minimum she needed to get back to London, stuffing everything in a small, carpet bag. As she dressed in the gown she'd worn the previous day, her mind raced. She trusted Lawrence implicitly, but she couldn't understand where this was coming from. Was there some threat to his life? On hers? And in that case, why not tell her outright? Why send her away?</p>
      <p>And then it hit her. "He is protecting me because he has feelings for me."</p>
      <p>The discovery came as a shock that drew her breath away, and she paused to sit on the edge of the bed. Lawrence awakened in her the same tenderness she'd felt for Ben and she thought she'd been following that feeling. Nevertheless, it was useless to deny that her feelings went beyond those of a sister. It might have been guilt that had brought her back to Blackmoor, but it was affection that had made her stay bearable. But, what was to be done now? Should she tell him how she felt? Was it the right thing to do or would it just add to his troubles?</p>
      <p>At that moment, the door opened and Lawrence stood on the threshold. "We have to go."</p>
      <p>She nodded mutely and allowed him to pick up her bag, while she went ahead of him. Outside, everything was dark and quiet. Lawrence took her by the elbow and silently led her through the darkened halls with surefooted swiftness. The cold wind of the moor blew through the front door, and dead leaves scattered across the ground. Beyond, she could see the carriage waiting to take her away.</p>
      <p>He hurried down the steps and handed the coachman her handbag.</p>
      <p>"Lawrence..." Gwen began, but he cut her off.</p>
      <p>"There's no time. You must go," he commanded, opening the door. Gwen stepped in and settled on the cold, leather seat. She turned towards Lawrence, trying to get the words out before it was too late, but he was in a frenzy. He took her hand and placed something in it.</p>
      <p>"Keep it with you at all times. It will protect you." he urged her, before brushing his lips lightly over it. He then disentangled his fingers from hers and shut the door.</p>
      <p>The carriage rolled forward, and all Gwen could do was stare through the windowpane at Lawrence's figure outlined by the light of the moon. He walked beside the vehicle as long as he could; his eyes never straying from hers. Stunned after all that had just happened, Gwen opened her hand and looked down at Lawrence's parting gift: it was a medallion of a saint surrounded by wolves.</p>
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<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Waning Wolf Moon</h2></a>
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    <p>Dawn found Lawrence sitting in a chair in his room, staring at the dying embers of the fire. His eyes were red from lack of sleep, and a slight stubble covered his chin. He had spent the entire night in vigil, going over everything that had happened the previous day. The villagers had said he'd been bitten by a werewolf. Yet, how could they know? Was there anyone else who'd seen the creature? And why single him out?</p><p>He did his best to recall the events in the gypsy camp. The light from the bonfires had been bright enough to see by, but the chaos had made everything confusing. He remembered the creature was massive, much larger than a bear, and that there was something odd about the way it stood on its hind legs. No living creature in the world fit that description, but a werewolf? Was there any possibility of its existence, or was he simply going crazy?</p><p>Lawrence buried his head in his hands. He needed to talk to someone and voice the fear that only kept growing inside of him, but there was no one. Gwen was gone, and reaching out to his father was out of the question. It was enough that the old man kept chastising him about the attack, but if Lawrence opened up about this, he would only confirm his father's belief that he was crazy. And then Lawrence realized that there was someone else he could talk to; a friendly ear that could give comfort, if not advice.</p><p>A couple of minutes later, Lawrence was standing just outside Singh's chamber. He wasn't sure if he would be awake at such an early hour, but if there was one person who would willingly listen to him, it would be the Sikh. He rapped gently on the door, and a few moments later, it opened.</p><p>"Lawrence! You're up early," Sing said with some surprise. "Please, come in."</p><p>Singh's room had ever been a source of curiosity and veneration for the Talbot boys, perhaps because it was as different from the rest of the house as it could be. Framed pictures of the Sikh's many travels hung from the walls, as well as a magnificent set of Indian swords. Their blades were etched with intricate designs of leaves, tigers, and lions, and the pummels were shaped like horses' heads. The furniture was brought over from India, and it was made of warm wood and light-colored fabrics that hinted of hot jungles and exotic places. A large, beat up trunk served as a table in the small sitting area, and a burgundy Persian carpet covered the floor. Beneath one of the windows, a commode with inlaid brass decor held an open book on an intricately carved stand. Beside it, a billowing, scented plume rose from a lit incense stick.</p><p>"Sit down," Singh said, showing him to a chair.</p><p>As he took the one across from him, Lawrence noticed that Singh was not yet dressed for the day. Instead, he wore a loose-fitting white shirt and pants, and a Kirpan dagger that hung from a leather strap around his neck. His hair hung freely, well below his shoulders, and this small change made him look older and wearier. It occurred to Lawrence that he had never seen Singh like this and that he was probably trespassing on his privacy.</p><p>"I hope I'm not disturbing you," he apologized.</p><p>"Not at all," the Sikh replied, turning his attention to a knife he'd been sharpening with a whetstone.</p><p>Lawrence studied the extensive collection of knives and guns that rested on the trunk between them. "Are you expecting a war?"</p><p>"A Sikh is a warrior of God. He must always be ready to combat evil."</p><p>Lawrence remained in silence, gathering his courage to speak. He didn't know much about Singh's beliefs, but Indian culture was among the richest in the world, and many of its narratives dealt with magic and the balance in wrought between good and evil. Did he dare voice his fears, or would it only bring him a step closer to being put back in an asylum?</p><p>Singh finished with the knife and set it down carefully before picking up a thin rapier. For some reason, it reminded Lawrence of the weapon hidden in his walking stick, and he wondered if he should also bring it to Singh for maintenance.</p><p>"Is something in your mind, young Lawrence?" Singh asked in the same tone he'd used when he and Ben would look for him and beg for a story.</p><p>"Do you believe in curses?"</p><p>The Sikh's eyebrows raised with faint surprise, but he did not look up from his work. "Curses?"</p><p>"Do you believe..." Lawrence hesitated, feeling a knot form in his throat. "Do you believe our family is cursed?"</p><p>For a few moments, there was no sound, but that of the stone brushing against the metal of the rapier. Then, Singh picked up a rag and began wiping down the blade as he spoke.</p><p>"I believe this house has seen more than its share of suffering, yes. Ever since your mother died, a dark cloud has hung over this family. I thought you were safe from it because you were in America, just as I thought Ben's marriage to Miss Conliffe would help dissipate it. But your brother's death and the attack you survived have proved otherwise, so yes. I'd say I do believe in curses." He then looked up at Lawrence. "Do you?"</p><p>The question caught Lawrence off guard. Before, he would have dismissed this idea with a laugh. It was probably the aftermath of his time at the asylum, but from a young age, Lawrence had learned to keep his two feet firmly on the ground. To him, believing in curses was a wild notion that only people who were out of touch with reality had. However, in light of recent events, he was finding it more difficult to adhere to this belief.</p><p>"I don't know," he whispered as he toyed with a sandalwood box that was in front of him. He flipped the hinged lid, letting the powdery scent invade his nostrils and looked inside. Much to his surprise, Lawrence was several shining rows of large-caliber bullets.</p><p>"Are these silver?" He asked, taking one out and holding it up to the light.</p><p>Singh nodded, switching his attention to a small pistol. "Silver is one of the purest metals. It is used to kill a specific type of prey."</p><p>Lawrence remembered the stories his mother had often read to him and Ben. Stories about evil beings being stopped by the magic of silver, whether it was a cross, a blade... "Or a bullet," Lawrence thought as he set it back down with its brethren.</p><p>"I didn't know you hunted monsters, Singh," he said out loud.</p><p>Singh had stopped working, and he looked at Lawrence with a careful expression in his eyes. "I don't, but sometimes the monsters hunt you. I prefer not to be caught unawares when that happens."</p><p>A chill ran down Lawrence's spine. Singh had said "when" rather than "if". This meant that he knew. He knew about this nameless evil in Blackmoor and was aware enough that he was ready to combat it, but then, why hadn't he done so before? Was the threat too great? And how would he react if he knew that Lawrence suspected that the evil had taken hold of him?</p><p>At that moment, a clock somewhere chimed the half-hour. "It is nearly seven," Singh murmured, turning towards the window. Outside, the sky had gone from dark blue to a light gray. He rose to his feet and began putting the knives and guns away inside a massive wardrobe.</p><p>"I'm guessing you'll join your father and Miss Conliffe for breakfast?" He asked as he approached Lawrence to take the bullet box from him.</p><p>"Gwen's gone," he blurted out.</p><p>Singh froze with his hand hovering in the air. "What did you say?"</p><p>"I sent Gwen away last night," Lawrence confessed, looking up at Singh with a pained expression on his face. "If there's any truth in what you say... if curses do exist, then Talbot Hall is no place for her."</p><p>The Sikh took this in silence and then reached out to put a hand on Lawrence's shoulder. "Good."</p>
<hr/><p>A few hours later, Lawrence was sitting alone in the breakfast parlor. He was busy with a rag, wiping away the tarnish from the rapier in his walking stick. The work satisfied him and helped him focus on the task ahead of him. The conversation with Singh had brought clarity if not comfort, and Lawrence had made up his mind. Cursed or not, he had made Gwen a promise, and he intended to keep it. He would hunt down the monster that had killed his brother and end the cycle of madness.</p><p>He was removing the last flakes of the rust off the weapon when he heard his father's shuffling steps. Lawrence quickly slid back the blade into its sheathe. He didn't understand why, but he was suddenly wary of his father finding out about it.</p><p>"Miss Conliffe is missing," Sir John said to his son as a manner of greeting. "She is gone from Talbot Hall."</p><p>"I know. I sent her away."</p><p>Sir John paused at this. "Why would you do that, Lawrence?"</p><p>"Because this place is cursed," he replied, wiping away at the silver pommel of the walking stick.</p><p>His father let out a low chuckle. <em>"This is the very coinage of your brain. This bodiless creation ecstasy is very cunning in."</em></p><p>Lawrence frowned. He didn't appreciate his father mocking him at a moment like this. "What is that supposed to mean?"</p><p>"It means that I have no control whatsoever in the fantasies your mind creates, but to act upon them in such a rash manner and with Miss Conliffe no less..."</p><p>Anger swelled within Lawrence, and he clutched the rag in a tight fist. "These aren't fantasies," he replied curtly. "There is something evil festering in Blackmoor and Gwen needed to be safe. I thought that you, of all people, would care enough about her to see to her wellbeing, but I see now that I was wrong."</p><p>Sir John's eyes flashed at his son's reproach. "As ever, you jump to conclusions, so allow me to enlighten you."</p><p>Sir John walked towards the fireplace, looking up at his wife's portrait as he spoke. "During your convalescence, Miss Conliffe's father shared his concerns about her safety with me. He was not too keen on her returning to Blackmoor, especially after the new round of attacks, but I assured him that she would be well-cared for. It was a promise I had kept until you decided to act because of some made-up fear. Did it ever occur to you that you might have put her in danger?"</p><p>Lawrence's stomach sank, and a wave of guilt swept through him. His father was right. He was so intent on getting her out of Blackmoor, that he didn't stop to consider the fact that she could be attacked on the way to the village, or that something could happen on the trip back to London. He could just picture her father's reaction when she arrived with no word of warning. He would be furious and with good reason.</p><p>"I didn't think…"</p><p>"That is an understatement. You'd better get a grip on yourself, Lawrence. Otherwise, you'll find yourself under unpleasant circumstances," Sir John said before leaving the room.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>“This is the very coinage of your brain. This bodiless creation ecstasy is very cunning in.” — Gertrude, “Hamlet”, Act 3, Scene 4</p>
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<a name="section0011"><h2>11. New Ice Moon</h2></a>
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    <p>That evening, Lawrence readied himself to go out. He dressed in warm, wool clothes, aware that he would probably spend the night outside. He had taken a repeating rifle from his father's gun collection and enough munition for a small battle. He thought about asking Singh for some of his silver bullets but decided against it. He was so noble, that he would probably want to accompany Lawrence into danger, and that was the last thing he wanted.</p><p>As the clock struck nine, Lawrence looked out of the window. It was one of those rare nights when the ever-present wind cleared the fog and clouds away to reveal a black velvet sky. He couldn't see the moon from his chamber, but its light made the landscape seem unearthly. He was about to turn away when he noticed the glow of a lamp emerging from the front door.</p><p>Lawrence quickly doused the candles, and as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he saw his father walking toward the gardens. Was he also going to hunt the beast? It was highly unlikely, especially after their conversation that afternoon, but then why leave the house at this hour? Picking up the rifle and its munition, Lawrence ran out of the room.</p><p>Outside, the night was still and silent, and there was a chill in the wind that spoke of winter. The moon was just peeking behind the hills, and its light became stronger as it made its way upward. Lawrence followed his father at a safe distance, taking care not to make a sound in case the beast was already on the prowl. He traversed the gardens, stopping every once in a while to watch and listen. A few minutes later, Lawrence came upon the edge of a large field, and he saw the structure of the family mausoleum. Was this where his father was headed? He was struck once more by the strange behavior and wondered if maybe madness was a trait that could be inherited. He didn't think anyone in their right mind would take a casual stroll to a grave in the middle of the night.</p><p>The faint glow of the lamp disappeared inside the building, and Lawrence followed after. Quietly, Lawrence walked up the dozen steps that led to the entrance. The doors stood wide open and, while he was certain he'd seen his father disappear inside, there were no signs of movement. Gathering his courage, Lawrence entered the building. It was just as he remembered it from the day of Ben's funeral: cold, damp, and a little foreboding. Fortunately, the light from the moon was bright enough to illuminate the space through the windows at the top. Lawrence walked keeping close to the wall and trying to figure out where his father could have disappeared to when he suddenly found himself at his mother's tomb.</p><p>It was tucked in one of the corners of the mausoleum, though no less magnificent for it. There was a white marble coffin upon which rested the figure of a sleeping woman. The sculpture was beautifully done and so life-like that one might have mistaken it for a real person.</p><p>Despite himself, Lawrence approached it and gazed at the effigy of his mother. "<em>Holy, fair, and wise is she. The heaven such grace did lend her, that she might admired be,</em>" he thought, as he allowed himself a moment to feel the pain of missing her.</p><p>He then moved forward to trace the figure's face with his hand when he detected a glimmer of light behind the marble structure. Puzzled, Lawrence walked around it and saw that there was a large metal door he hadn't noticed before. He opened it with care, and a fetid wind wafted up towards him. Covering his mouth and nose from the fumes, Lawrence looked inside and found a torch that lighting the way down a set of narrow steps. He was certain this was the ancient crypt upon which the family vault had been built, but he couldn't fathom why his father would find something to do down there. Placing his feet sideways on the steps, Lawrence descended and found himself at the end of a long corridor.</p><p>He slowly made his way through it, peering into the dark openings of the niches on either side. After what seemed an eternity, he finally reached the end of the corridor to find an open cell, illuminated from within by many candles. Lawrence stepped inside and noted that it was a wide, circular room and that there was no furniture except for an old leather chair with iron manacles attached to it. This was enough to send shudders down his spine, but when he turned around and saw what the chair was facing, terror struck him.</p><p>On a hollow space in the wall, there was a shrine of sorts. A copy of Solana Talbot's portrait hung at its center and, in an old bench beneath it, rested objects that had once belonged to her. Lawrence saw an old prayer book, a rosary made of ebony, an old Spanish with flowers painted on it, and an old mantilla that had once been white. The collection seemed odd, but what drew his interest was a small portrait case, which rested open. On one side was the same picture of his mother Lawrence carried with him everywhere, and on the other was a picture he'd briefly seen once before: a picture of Gwen. Lawrence shook his head, uncertain of what he saw, but as he drew closer for a better look, a voice spoke from behind him.</p><p>"I knew you'd eventually make your way down here."</p><p>Lawrence jumped and whirled around to face his father. The old man stood so close to him, it was a wonder he hadn't felt his presence, but he was too disturbed by his discovery to notice. There was a dark, sinister look in Sir John's face as he stared coldly at his son.</p><p>"What is this place?" Lawrence demanded.</p><p>Sir John took in the room with a single glance. "It is both my prison and my haven."</p><p>"What do you mean? Why are mother's things here?"</p><p>"It is a shrine to her memory. She was a lovely woman, your mother," he said, ignoring his son's questions. "I know losing her wounded you, and I would have given my life to stop you from finding us that night. But things being as they were, I couldn't prevent it." He let out a sigh. "You must believe me when I tell you I loved her with all my heart, and it killed me to lose her, and you as well."</p><p>Lawrence moved back a step. He had no idea why his father was talking about his mother's death, but a growing sense of panic flourished inside of him.</p><p>"It left me quite dead inside, you know. If you look into my eyes, you can see there is nothing left," Sir John said, raising a candle to his eyes. The flame illuminated them and, though there was a green halo around the irises, the pupils were lifeless, black spots.</p><p>"What do you mean you could prevent it? Mother killed herself," Lawrence heard himself whisper.</p><p>His father chuckled darkly, extinguishing the flame with a single breath. "Then you don't understand it yet, but you will. Sooner rather than later, I expect."</p><p>Lawrence retreated towards the open cell door; the rifle clutched tightly in both his hands. "What is it that I will understand?"</p><p>"That the Wolf will have its day whether we like it or not. It is a force of nature that never stops but consumes everything, and it will consume you as well."</p><p>Sir John approached him, and Lawrence withdrew, filled with inexplicable terror. "The darkest hours of hell are before you, my boy, but you'll endure. They'll blame you and even try to kill you for it, but remember the Wolf will have its day."</p><p>Suddenly there was a loud clang, and Lawrence realized he was now back in the corridor. The noise had come from the heavy, iron door that now barred the entrance to the cell. Bewildered, Lawrence peered inside, but the only thing he could see were two pinpricks of light, maliciously glaring at him from the shadows. At that moment, the fear he'd been repressing struck him with full force, and Lawrence began running, trying to escape what he knew was inescapable.</p><p>He moved blindly through the tunnel, scraping his hands on the rough stone of the walls, and tripping over the debris of decades collected on the floor. It hadn't seemed that far when he'd first made his way through. Was it possible he was lost? The thought made his mouth taste of bitter bile. He needed to get out of there.</p><p>At last, he reached the staircase, and through the opening to the mausoleum above, a single ray of moonlight shone upon him. Panting heavily, Lawrence looked up at the silver orb, which loomed large and foreboding.</p><p>
  <em>"It is the very error of the moon. She comes more nearer earth than she was wont and makes men mad."</em>
</p><p>No sooner had he thought these words that a stab of pain shot through him. He let out a cry as he put his hand against this neck where he'd been bitten. Beneath his skin, he could feel the blood rush through his veins at an unspeakable pace, carrying the poison of the wound to his entire body. Lawrence felt as though his bones were splintering and reshaping within him, and his flesh was being torn apart by scalding blades.</p><p>He doubled over and fell to his knees as the pain increased. He was only vaguely aware of his surroundings, but as he looked up, he saw his mother's figure and began crawling toward it. He could see it, just a few steps away from him, the shape of the woman asleep on a slab of marble. No, not asleep, but dead. He reached one hand up towards it, and suddenly he realized it wasn't a hand, but the hybrid of a paw. It was covered in coarse, black hair and through the tears in his eyes, he saw the sharp glint of claws.</p><p>Terror flooded through Lawrence as he felt his consciousness fade from his mind, and the last thing he thought was that the stories were true. There were such things as monsters, and thanks to his father, he had now become one of them. He let out a scream of terror, but the sound that emerged from him was not human. It was a fierce, chilling howl that echoed loudly into the night. It was the haunting howl of the Wolf.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Shakespeare quotes on this chapter:</p><p>“Holy, fair, and wise is she. The heaven such grace did lend her, that she might admired be.” — Musician, “The Two Gentlemen of Verona”, Act 4, Scene 2</p><p>"It is the very error of the moon. She comes more nearer earth than she was wont and makes men mad." — Othello, “Othello”, Act 5, Scene 2</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Waxing Ice Moon</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I have been super busy with some things which is why it took me two whole weeks to work on the next two chapters! Granted, it wasn't something I was planning on including, since I mostly wanted the story to go back and forth between Gwen and Lawrence, but oh well, sometimes the story has its demands! Anyway, I hope to be posting weekly again, as I have quite a bit written (though not revised) including the ending! Many happy readings!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The watery light of the sun filtered through the clouds when Lawrence first blinked his eyes open. He was disoriented and couldn't remember where he was nor how he had come to be there. His body ached as he had been beaten down, and there was a rotten taste in his mouth. He shut his eyes again and tried to remember what had happened, but his mind was empty of memories. There was only a vague feeling of rage and fear. After a while, which might have been an hour or a few minutes, he worked to dislodge himself from his hiding place. As it turned out, he had somehow tucked himself in the hollow trunk of a tree not too far from the Hall.</p><p>Lawrence stood for a moment on weak knees and then fell to the ground, overcome by the need to retch. There was nothing in his stomach but bloody bile, but as he lifted his hand to wipe his lips, he saw that it was caked in dry blood. Panic shot through him as he inspected his body and noted that his clothes were torn to shreds and that they too, were splattered in blood.</p><p>And then he remembered the events of the previous night: following his father into a crypt and seeing Gwen's portrait in a shrine dedicated to his mother. He also recalled his father's strange words about the Wolf having its day and then... the transformation. The horrible pain he'd been subjected to as his body somehow morphed into that of a werewolf. But after that, there was nothing. He let out a shuddering sob, as he realized that his father had known all along, that it is was he who had bitten him, cursing him forever.</p><p>Suddenly, Lawrence detected the sound of footsteps approaching, and he scrambled to his feet. Had they come for him? Did he have a chance to run? But the figure that came over the hill was the last he expected or wished to see.</p><p>"Ah Lawrence, I thought I might find you here," his father said casually.</p><p>Lawrence retreated from him. "What happened? What did you do to me?"</p><p>Sir John let out an exaggerated sigh. "I think the question is rather what did you do?"</p><p>Lawrence's heartbeat hammered against his throat and he felt his entire body tremble. "Me? You're the one who cursed me! You're the one who made me into a monster!"</p><p>The old man noted the edge of panic in his voice and offered a sardonic smile. "It may be so, but I wasn't the one who attacked the townsmen last night. You've done terrible things, Lawrence. Terrible things."</p><p>Lawrence said nothing. He could stare aghast at the man who had given him life and who, for some unknown reason, was doing everything in his power to destroy it. What had he ever done to him to garner such hatred? His brain was still trying to process everything that happened when the sound of horses reached his ears. He whipped around and saw a cavalcade appear on the road from the village. Letting out a cry of despair, Lawrence turned away from his father and began running as fast as he could. He could hear their cries behind him, and though he knew his attempt was futile, he still tried.</p><p>There were at least ten riders in the group, all armed, and at the head rode none other than Inspector Aberline. When they saw Lawrence attempting to escape, the men spurred their horses and ran him down. He never stood a chance, not against so many of them. They jumped from their mounts and surrounded him, pointing their guns at him. Whatever fight there was in Lawrence was quickly subdued, and he lifted his hands above his head. One of the men approached him and struck him with the butt of his rifle. Blood spilled from his lips as he fell to the ground once more, and through the vague waves of pain, Lawrence thought of Gwen, and how grateful he was that she had not been there to see this.</p><p>On the other side of the field, Aberline and Sir John watched the scene and spoke grimly amongst themselves.</p><p>"Much as it pains me to admit, I cannot deny the accusations, Inspector," Sir John said in a defeated tone. "It is as you say."</p><p>Aberline's eyes narrowed; there was something odd about the old gentleman's submission to the accusations against his son. From what Colonel Montford and the others had said, Sir John had seemed ready to defend Lawrence with tooth and claw, but he was now giving up without a fight? Was he just coming to terms with his son's behavior, or was he hiding something?</p><p>He cleared his throat. "You do understand that these charges are enough to put Lawrence away in prison forever?"</p><p>"I do."</p><p>"And that sits well with you?"</p><p>Sir John sighed deeply. "I cannot deny my son's madness. It is why I sent him away, you know. Hoping that distance from this place would help cure him of it, but it seems, it had already taken hold of his mind."</p><p>Inspector Aberline listened wearily. He was dirty and tired from the previous night's events, and he only wanted to return to London and have done with this case. "I shall see to it that Mr. Talbot's history is taken into account. After all, we are trying to bring justice, not condemnation."</p><p>Sir John grunted, and the inspector bid him farewell. As the watched the men tie his son to a spare horse, a malicious grin appeared in Sir John's lips. "You be strong now, Lawrence. Be strong."</p>
<hr/><p>Gwen's return to London was met with great joy and relief from her father. Though their communication had been constant, Charles had already thought of summoning his daughter back home. He didn't like to think of her in the middle of nowhere with no chaperone and three men for company, no matter how well she knew them. So, it was a great surprise when she suddenly appeared on their doorstep early one morning.</p><p>Charles asked about her impromptu arrival and why no one had sent word, and Gwen did her best to paint a different scenario from the one that had really occurred. She had come home because Lawrence was thankfully on the mend, and since Singh took the responsibility of caring for him, there was not much for her to do. The attacks seemed to have stopped, and an inspector from Scotland Yard was investigating the case. All in all, things were looking bright for the Talbots, and they sent their regards to him. Her answers satisfied her father, and he believed that his daughter was finally ready to move on from Benjamin, though nothing could have been farther from the truth.</p><p>While the wound left by Benjamin's loss was slowly healing, it was to Lawrence that Gwen's thoughts now turned. He was never far from her mind, and she often caught herself staring into space, worrying about him. He had acted so strangely the night she left, that Gwen could only guess at what was going through Lawrence's mind. Had he discovered some unsettling secret about the perpetrator of the attacks? If so, he would certainly put himself in harm's way again. What if he was injured once more? Or what if he died and she never got to confess her feelings for him? This idea did nothing to alleviate her anxiety so instead, she turned to her memories of that afternoon by the lake, where he had all but held her in his arms.</p><p>A week after she'd arrived, Gwen was sitting in the parlor, trying to read when she heard the sound of the front door closing. She immediately got to her feet and went to the kitchen.</p><p>"I'll have tea ready in a moment, Papa," she called out, taking the kettle from the fire and pouring the hot water on the teapot she had already prepared.</p><p>She set cups, milk, sugar, and a plate with scones on a tray and carried it to her father's study. He was standing by the window, reading a newspaper by the dying light, and though he heard her, he did not turn around.</p><p>"Papa?" She asked, setting the tray down on his desk and taking a seat on her usual chair. "Is something the matter?"</p><p>Charles turned around, and it was the gray look on his face, more than his words, that alerted her that something wasn't right. "I am afraid there is some bad news, Gwen."</p><p>She paled visibly but managed to keep her calm. "Lawrence?" He handed the paper to her, pointing at a short article.</p><p>
  <em>For the past three months, the sleepy hamlet of Blackmoor was subjected to nights of terror as nearly two dozen people, including a band of traveling gypsies, were attacked by an unknown assailant. Detective Inspector Francis Aberline of Scotland Yard was on the case for the past fortnight, and he and his team finally managed to catch the perpetrator of these acts. To the surprise of many, it was none other than the famed, Shakespearean actor Lawrence Talbot of the American Theater Company. What persuaded Mr. Talbot to commit these crimes is yet to be revealed, Inspector Aberline promised justice would be delivered. At the time of this report, Mr. Talbot has been prosecuted and admitted to Lambeth Hospital where he will receive proper care.</em>
</p><p>As she read the note, Gwen felt as though ice water had been poured over her. "It isn't true. This... it can't possibly be true."</p><p>Charles let out a sigh. "I'm afraid it is. The article mentions Inspector Aberline was the one who apprehended him, and you told me he'd been at the Hall to speak with Lawrence after the attack. If Scotland Yard already suspected him..."</p><p>"No, Lawrence almost died from what was done to him! It's impossible to believe that he would have done that to himself."</p><p>Charles pressed his hand against his eyes. He was growing weary</p><p>of this business with the Talbots. "Gwen, settle down. There is much you don't know about this young man."</p><p>"Like what?" She retorted.</p><p>"Like the fact that he is dangerous to himself and others," her father declared impatiently. "I didn't want to be the one to tell you this, but Lawrence was committed to an asylum when he was a boy."</p><p>"I know," Gwen interrupted him.</p><p>"What?!" Charles stared at his daughter in shock.</p><p>Gwen met his gaze evenly. If she was to convince her father of the need to help Lawrence, then she needed to be as calm and rational as possible, otherwise, he'd dismiss her attempts as a young woman's hysterics.</p><p>"I've known that since Ben's funeral, and that's why I'm telling you Lawrence is incapable of committing these atrocities. There must be an explanation for all of this."</p><p>"He's already been sent to Lambeth Asylum, Gwen. Do you think the authorities would just lock up a man if they weren't certain of his guilt?"</p><p>Gwen couldn't argue with her father's logic, but it still did not sit well with her. "Let me go to him. I'm sure he can explain..." She began.</p><p>Charles was stunned. "Gwen, have you gone mad?! He is INSANE, for Pete's sake! He might kill you!"</p><p>"He won't, he..." She had been about to say "he loves me", but it would have been the last straw for her father. "He would never hurt me," she ended weakly.</p><p>Charles shook his head. "I see now it was a mistake to allow you to return to Blackmoor, but there won't be a next time. I don't care what happens next, but you are not to contact Lawrence or Sir John anymore."</p><p>"But, Papa..."</p><p>"No, Gwen," he replied sternly. "The sooner you accept that these people are dangerous and have no place amongst decent society, the sooner you'll be able to get on with your life."</p><p>The fight continued long into the night. Gwen argued, pleaded and wept, but her father was firm in his decision: Lawrence's fate was now his own.</p>
<hr/><p>Cold.</p><p>That was the first, real thing Lawrence had felt in a long while. He was cold, and his surroundings seemed imbued with it. He knew he was lying on a hard and smooth surface, but he couldn't identify what it was. Ice? He vaguely recalled seeing someone lying on a bed of ice. He shifted his head, and his cheek brushed against the surface; it was frigid and damp. Somewhere far off, he heard strange echoes of voices and screaming.</p><p>Lawrence tried to open his eyes, but his body wouldn't respond. There was an odd heaviness to it, as though all his limbs were disconnected from him. After what seemed like an eternity, he managed to open one eye, but could only see grimy, discolored tiles.</p><p>"Wherever I am, at least, I'm indoors," he thought.</p><p>He then tried to shift his position to take a look at his surroundings, but he discovered he couldn't move his arms, not even to push himself up. Was he tied down? He felt no ropes, only a rough cloth that restrained his movement. Using what little strength he had, Lawrence used his feet to push himself off the wall. It required several attempts and many breaks to catch his breath, but he managed to twist his body to the side.</p><p>He saw he was locked up in a small, dirty cell. The only light came from a window high above him, but it wasn't enough to tell him the time of day. Water dripped from the ceiling, forming mold on one of the walls, and in front of him was a large, metal door. It had no handle, only a small rectangle that served as a window. He recognized the place for he had been there before: he was in an insane asylum.</p><p>A wave of terror struck Lawrence, and he began to struggle against his bonds, which only increased his panic. How could he find himself there once more? What had he done that warranted such a terrible sentence? Or had his former life simply been a disturbing trick of his brain? If his mind was so far gone, how could it have manufactured such an extensive illusion? He distinctly remembered his life in America, working as an actor, his brother's death... had it all been real? He gritted his teeth to keep from screaming as he sought for an answer to his delusion, and then a single thought shone brightly through the fog of doubt: Gwen.</p><p>Her image crystallized in his mind. He saw her framed against the bright light of the sun, looking up at him with a radiant smile. He recalled the way she had leaned back against him when he'd shown her how to skip stones, and the touch of her hand upon his own. These memories were not linked to his family or to any horrors of his past. They were real. Gwen was real, and she was the thread that connected everything.</p><p>Lawrence felt the tension and panic in him slowly ebb away. Gwen was the one who brought him back to Talbot Hall to face his fears. She was the one who had nursed him back to life, and who had led him to the discovery that his father was indeed a monster. Images of sharp claws and teeth flashed before his eyes, and Lawrence finally accepted the truth. His father was a werewolf, and he had passed his legacy of terror on to him.</p><p>Lawrence pressed his face down on the floor. "How much time passed since I transformed? How much time is there before it happens again? I have to warn someone, tell them... them I am not safe."</p><p>What little strength he'd had was now spent, and he could feel sleep quickly overtake him. "I have to find a way out of here," he thought as his consciousness slipped away. "I have to find Gwen and save her."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Full Ice Moon</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The next time Lawrence awoke with a full conscience, he was sitting in a corner of his cell. He was startled awake from a dense, drugged sleep, and as he blinked his eyes open, he sensed a presence just beyond the ray of light that came in through the window.</p><p>"Lycanthropy," said the voice from the dark.</p><p>Instantly, the grogginess vanished, and Lawrence felt his insides writhe at the sound of his father's voice. He sat up and gazed into the shadows of his cell. "What are you doing here?"</p><p>"Yes, lycanthropy is the name of the disease," the old man said, ignoring his question. Slowly, he emerged from the shadows and sat on a chair placed there for his convenience. "I contracted it many years ago in the Hindu Kush. Beautiful land out there, plains as far as the eye could see and then the sharp peaks of the mountain range that marked the edge of the British Empire. Singh and I were trying to get in contact with some of the local tribes to establish a communications route."</p><p>"What the hell are you talking about?" Lawrence demanded, though his father ignored him again.</p><p>"In one of the villages, we heard a curious story about a creature that was neither man nor beast. We went in search of it, and after three days of tracking, we found its lair. It was a miserable hole on the side of the mountain, near one of the passes. I went in alone and, much to my surprise, I found a little, feral boy. He looked like any human, except there was something strange in his stance and the look of his eye. He attacked me as soon as he saw me, and bit my arm. After we got back to the village, I thought I had been the butt of a nasty joke, but I learned better by the time the next full moon came round."</p><p>Lawrence's eyes widened as the pieces fell into place. He recalled the night when everything had begun for him. How he had slipped from his bed because of some noise lost in the night. How he had exited the Hall and walked down to the gardens, following the same route his father took to the mausoleum. How he came upon his mother's inert body, her white gown soaked in a pool of blood, and he saw the monster hovering above it. He realized then, he had seen the werewolf, but his young mind had somehow managed to recognize his father in its body.</p><p>"It was you. You killed my mother," he whispered.</p><p>"I suppose in a way I did," Sir John admitted with a hint of bitterness.</p><p>"You should have killed yourself, rather than let those around you suffer," Lawrence spat out, his voice gathering strength as the beast awoke within him, burning with rage.</p><p>His father chuckled. "I can't tell you how much I debated with myself over that, but life is far too glorious, even for the damned. I thought I found a solution for it when I locked myself up in that cell month after month after Solana died. I promised myself it wouldn't happen again."</p><p>"Then why would you kill Ben?!" Lawrence barked, straining against his bonds.</p><p>His father's cool manner faded and a strange look of desire came over his eyes. It was not something Lawrence had seen before in him, and for a moment he thought he imagined it. "Nothing would have ever happened had she not come, hot and burning like the rose moon in summer."</p><p>A chill descended on Lawrence as he finally understood his father's motive: Gwen. Lawrence recalled small moments he'd witnessed: his father's rude behavior towards her during dinner that first night at the Hall; his bouts of anger whenever they spent time together, and the anger he'd shown when he'd sent her away. These were all actions that sprang from jealousy and the idea of his father lusting after his brother's fiancée made him feel sick to his stomach.</p><p>"You're disgusting!" he cried out. "How could you do that to your son?!"</p><p>"I told you once that the Wolf will have its day. You can't control it, you can't repress it, you can only accept its power." Sir John replied coldly. "Your brother never knew about the curse, but he suspected something, which was why he decided to move the wedding forward. On the night he came to tell me he was leaving for good, I lost it. I became drunk and unmanageable and knocked Singh out when he tried to calm me down. I could have just locked myself up in the cell, but the Wolf in me rebelled against the idea. I let it run free that night and by morning Benjamin was dead."</p><p>Lawrence let out a howling cry, giving free rein to fury. "I'll kill you!" He fought against the straight jacket and the neck cuff that chained him to the wall. "I'll kill you if you touch her, if you do anything to her!"</p><p>A wicked grin of delight spread over Sir John's face. "I admit I'd love to see you try, but you still have a lot to learn, young pup." He got to his feet and went towards the door, then paused. "Oh, I almost forgot. I have something for you in case you don't find life as glorious as I find it to be... or not to be," he said, withdrawing a small pocket knife from his coat and tossing it on Lawrence's cot. "I'll make sure to give Miss Conliffe your regards."</p><p>"I'll kill you! I'll hunt you down and kill you for what you've done!"</p><p>Fury swept through Lawrence's body even as the heavy, metal door slammed shut. He continued to scream and fight against his bonds for the better part of an hour. No doubt the guards would notify the doctors, but he didn't care, not when Gwen was in danger from his father. However, Lawrence's strength soon gave out, and the anger that had protected him melted into anguish. He wept for his mother, an unwitting victim of his father's recklessness, and he wept for his brother and Gwen, that their happiness was taken because of his father's selfishness. But most of all, he wept for himself, that he was the one to bear the burden of his father's curse, and that there was nothing he could do about it.</p><hr/><p>Even though several weeks had now passed, Gwen still couldn't get over the shock of Lawrence's unjust sentence. Despite her father's severe admonitions, she tried to gather as much information as was possible, without drawing attention to it. She asked the household servants to bring her any newspapers they could find, and very soon she had a small pile of clippings, hidden in a hatbox in her wardrobe.</p><p>After that first article, the story was picked up by other newspapers, and she was able to get a few more details, though nothing of great consequence. Many of the articles centered the conversation on the need to improve mental institutions, while others grumbled about the alarming state of insecurity in the country. However, after a few days, public interest faded away, and the writers moved on to other topics. It didn't surprise Gwen. This was London after all, and its citizens cared little for the happenings in obscure country villages. Nevertheless, it took a great effort on her part not to rush to the asylum or to the police to ask for news about him, and so she spent her days worried and unable to do anything about Lawrence's predicament.</p><p>One morning, Gwen was busy in her father's study, answering some correspondence related to the antique store, when a maid knocked softly on the door.</p><p>"Come in," Gwen said, grateful for the distraction.</p><p>"Begging your pardon, Miss, but there is a visitor to see you."</p><p>Gwen sighed. She'd been excusing herself from attending to anyone who called and had declined every single invitation she'd received since she'd returned to town. Her father had chided her about it, saying she was punishing herself on account of Lawrence, but the truth was that Gwen didn't feel like being surrounded by people whose worries seemed superficial and unimportant in comparison to her own.</p><p>"I don't think I feel well enough to entertain guests, Helena. Would you ask them to return another day?"</p><p>The maid hesitated, biting her lower lip. "If you say so, Miss, except it's Sir John Talbot who's calling, and I thought you might like to speak to him considering…"</p><p>Gwen froze for a moment, and she felt her heart hammering wildly in her chest. If Sir John was in London, it surely meant he had come about Lawrence. Instantly, hope flared within her. If there anyone could give her a detailed account of what had happened, it would be him.</p><p>"Show him to the parlor, if you please. I'll be down shortly."</p><p>The maid hurried off, and Gwen took a few moments to compose herself. She knew she was deliberately disobeying her father and that he'd be furious if he found out, but she was willing to brave his anger just to learn more about Lawrence. Besides, she couldn't turn the old gentleman away when it was he who had sought her out.</p><p>A few minutes later, Gwen entered the parlor to find Sir John standing by the window. He looked the same as ever, slightly disheveled and with clothes that looked like they'd been kept in a wardrobe for the better part of a decade. Yet, for all the turmoil surrounding his family, his manner was calm and collected.</p><p>"Sir John, how are you?" As she approached him and offered her hand.</p><p>He took it between both of his and clasped it for a moment. "Ah, Miss Conliffe, it is always a delight to see you."</p><p>"Won't you sit down?"</p><p>Gwen's manner seemed to please the old man, and he offered one of his odd grins as he sat on a chair. "I admit I was not expecting a warm welcome after your impromptu departure from the Hall."</p><p>This caught her off guard, and Gwen's cheeks reddened. "I… I apologize if I offended you, Sir John," she began, but he dismissed her words with a wave of his hand.</p><p>"There's no need to worry about that, my dear," he interrupted. "If I'd been a more attentive host, I could have prevented my son from running you out of the house in the middle of the night."</p><p>Gwen hesitated, uncertain of how to broach the subject. "Please, Sir John, he did no such thing. Lawrence believed we were in danger, and he provided the means to send me home safely. I could never berate him that."</p><p>"Danger, bah!" He exclaimed. "I'm afraid to say the only person you were in danger from was himself. I'm sure you already know about the recent unpleasantness regarding him?"</p><p>"I did read something in the papers, though I cannot believe a word of it," she stated. "Lawrence would never hurt anyone."</p><p>Sir John's offered a tight smile "I thank you for putting it so delicately, my dear, but it pains me to tell you that the reports are all true."</p><p>A chill descended on Gwen, and she felt the breath knocked out of her. All true? Six men murdered? And a dozen more the previous month? Impossible. No man could have ever done it, no matter how far gone his mind was. "You can't believe that of him" she whispered. "Surely someone made a mistake."</p><p>"It isn't what I believe, but rather what is," he said sharply. "Inspector Aberline was there the night of the murders, and he witnessed the massacre Lawrence wrought first-hand. There was nothing I could do in the face of the law, not even if I'd wanted to."</p><p>"But Lawrence was attacked himself! He couldn't have done it on his own! You were there, Sir John, you… you said you'd warned him, you said there was something in the woods that night…" And then Gwen's voice cut off as she broke down crying. For weeks, she had prayed that something could be done to help Lawrence, but Sir John's words killed the hope within her.</p><p>The old man went to sit beside her and offered his handkerchief. "There's no sense of crying about it. I'm afraid Lawrence's mind was never set right after his mother died, and now it is too far gone."</p><p>Gwen looked up, her eyes red and swimming in tears. "What do you mean? Have you seen him?"</p><p>He nodded. "I've just come from Lambeth Hospital, and he is in a sorry state. I don't think he would recognize anyone nowadays. He barely recognized me."</p><p>The familiar pain of loss entered Gwen's heart again, as she turned her head away. It had been one thing to lose Ben, but to lose Lawrence, not in body, but in mind, was more than she could bear. Would he remember her now if he saw her? Would he remember their brief moments together? Why hadn't she said anything when she had the chance?</p><p>"It would be better if you put him altogether from your mind, my dear," Sir John whispered, putting his hand on top of hers. "He can't be helped at all."</p><p>Gwen thought it was a gesture of comfort, but then Sir John left his hand on top of hers longer than was proper, awakening a sense of uneasy in her. She withdrew her hand, clutching it tightly to her stomach, and looked up at the old man. He was sitting close, much too close her, and for a moment there was a flash of desire in his gaze that frightened her. Quickly, she got to her feet and crossed to the other side of the room, her heart beating loudly in her ears. She should have never received him while she was alone in the house.</p><p>"Is everything all right, my dear?" He asked, and his words echoed loudly in her mind.</p><p>My dear? Never during the three years of their acquaintance, had Sir John used any terms of endearment with her. In fact, his manner had been so cold and distant, that for a while, Gwen believed he didn't approve of her at all. Yet this change in him was inexplicable and its implication suddenly sent a wave of repugnance through her.</p><p>"I… I apologize, Sir John, but I think I need to be alone right now."</p><p>She heard him get to his feet and prayed he would not come near her. "Of course, I imagine the news have overwrought you," he said cooly, heading towards the hall. "I'll be sure to stop by next time I'm in London, see how you are. Please give my best to your father."</p><p>The words sounded like a threat more than a farewell, and Gwen could only muster a noncommittal murmur. Sir John bowed down to her, and she waited in tense silence until he left. The sound of the front door closing brought a wave of relief to Gwen, and she slowly sank to her knees, gasping for air. She didn't know what was going to happen to Lawrence, nor how she could be of any help to him, and at that moment she realized she was alone on this, with no one to turn to for help, and for that she wept once more.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Waning Ice Moon</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Scotland Yard headquarters were located in an old red and white building that had seen better days. According to historians, the place had once housed great personalities and Scottish sovereigns, though it had since lost its luster, dwarfed by the new buildings that rose above it. Inspector Aberline was exiting the building, followed closely by his second-in-command, Sergeant Thomas Carter. Instinctively, they both took hold of their hats to brave the chilly, evening air.</p><p>"I hear congratulations are in order, sir." The sergeant said as they descended the steps at a brisk pace. "A promotion to chief inspector doesn't come every day."</p><p>"Thank you, Carter. It is most welcome, but it's all in a day's work," Aberline replied evenly.</p><p>"We should gather the men and stop at the pub for a drink to celebrate."</p><p>"I see no reason why not, except, there is something important I have to do tonight," he replied, stopping by the curb where a hired coach waited.</p><p>"Are we on a new case, sir?" He asked as they climbed inside.</p><p>"Not a new one," Aberline replied in a reserved tone. "This is more or less off the record."</p><p>"What do you mean? Where are we going? Carter asked, sitting down opposite to the inspector and shivering at the cold.</p><p>"Lambeth Hospital," he answered, loud enough for the coachman to hear as well.</p><p>There was a snap of reins as they set off at a brisk pace. It was a clear evening, and the stars were already appearing overhead. The city streets were busy with people returning home after a long day's work. Workmen chatted in groups of three or four, carrying their tools and lunch tins over their shoulders as they wove through the crowd. Vendors were already closing up their shops, and women could be seen hurrying home to prepare dinner for their families. As he gazed through the window, Aberline envied their carefree manners, and he asked himself why he had chosen this profession.</p><p>"Lambeth? You're still thinking about that Talbot bloke?" Carter asked both surprised and curious.</p><p>Aberline smoothed his fingers over his mustache as he was wont to do whenever he was meditating on something. "Yes, I find his case an intriguing one."</p><p>"Intriguing how? The man was guilty, caught in the act and all, and then he was locked up. What is so particular about it?" The sergeant asked.</p><p>"A fair question," Aberline thought to himself.</p><p>During his many years in the police force, he had seen many horrible crimes: murder, kidnapping, rape, yet none had challenged his intellect more than the Ripper case. Unfortunately for him, it had remained unsolved and ever since, Aberline had been trying to redeem himself. When he was first assigned to the Blackmoor case, he had felt it was a nasty way of reminding him of his failure. However, as the investigation progressed, he began hoping that this case would help him get out of the three-year slump he was in, and it did. The capture of Lawrence Talbot was easier than he'd expected, yet he wondered if perhaps, it had been too easy.</p><p>"Indeed," he answered after a brief silence. "But there is something odd about the entire thing."</p><p>"Such as what, sir?"</p><p>Aberline turned his attention to his companion. "Sir John's Talbot's attitude for starters. From what the people in the village said, he was not one to be crossed, yet when we finally found his son, he gave in very quickly."</p><p>"Maybe he knew he couldn't fight the law?" Carter offered.</p><p>"Not him," Aberline interposed. "Country lords like Sir John Talbot always use their bloodlines to take advantage of situations like these, and he was no exception." He paused. "And then, there's Lawrence Talbot's strange delusions."</p><p>Carter let out a chuckle. "D'you mean all that talk about werewolves and such?"</p><p>"Precisely. It's an odd thing to say, don't you think, Carter?"</p><p>"I dunno, sir." He replied, shrugging his shoulders. "Seems to me someone bound for the nuthouse would say strange things like that."</p><p>"Perhaps," Aberline replied pensively. "But Mr. Talbot's case is a curious one, and it has garnered enough interest that the hospital is hosting an open demonstration tonight."</p><p>"A demonstration of what?"</p><p>"Of Mr. Talbot's supposedly unfounded fears."</p><p>At that moment, the cab cleared the buildings and moved over a bridge that crossed the Thames. At that moment, a hint of silver appeared just above the horizon. There would be a full moon that night.</p>
<hr/><p>Lambeth Hospital was an ominous-looking building. It was made of dark, brown stone though the color was hardly noticeable beneath the grime that clung to its exterior. The windows of the main building were tall, and they seemed to keep a constant watch on passersby. There was a tall, black fence that surrounded the entire property giving it a foreboding look, as though it marked the limits of freedom for those confined within.</p><p>The demonstration that evening was being held in one of the larger amphitheaters, and the room was packed with some of Britain's most notable minds in medicine and science. Inspector Aberline and his companion found two separate seats near the back of the room, and Aberline couldn't help feeling uncomfortable.</p><p>The room itself was sparse and depressing. The walls were covered in tiles that had long ago been white, but which now seemed gray, and the space itself was poorly lit. Aberline couldn't imagine having to spend years locked up in such an environment. "It's bound to make you mad," he thought, not without irony.</p><p>At that moment, a small side door at the bottom of the room opened, and a thin, balding man with spectacles and a beard entered the room. He was followed by an asylum guard pushing a wheelchair in which Lawrence sat. His upper body was restrained by a straight jacket and his mouth gagged, while his legs were clamped down to the chair by a pair of iron cuffs. He did not or could not move, but he was aware that he was being put on display. His eyes darted nervously all over the room, identifying the men who gawked at him with contempt.</p><p>The pitiful display made Aberline feel sorry for Lawrence. He had never liked the way the government dealt with mental patients and seeing the diminished actor increased his sense of unease. Lawrence Talbot was a criminal, of that he had no doubt in his mind, but just for a moment, Aberline wondered what it would feel like to be so utterly powerless against something that came from within you. He didn't think he would be able to bear it.</p><p>Doctor Hoenneger, the asylum's current director, had already begun speaking to his audience, describing Lawrence's mental history as well as a description of his malady.</p><p>"As you can see," he said. "Mr. Talbot suffers from a curious disease of the mind called lycanthropy, which leads him to believe that the full moon turns him into a werewolf. This sadly comes from the mistaken notion that his father is a monster, a werewolf to be precise and that he somehow transmitted this curse on to him."</p><p>A smatter of chuckles echoed throughout the amphitheater, and the doctor smiled benignly at this. "However, tonight we will prove to Mr. Talbot that he was not bitten by a werewolf. He won't transform into one, and this will help him take the first steps down the long path to recovery."</p><p>Lawrence struggler against the gag, feeling the cloth cut into the corners of his mouth.</p><p>"Ah, it seems Mr. Talbot wishes to communicate with us!" Doctor Hoenneger exclaimed gleefully. "Let us hear what he has to say."</p><p>The guard took the gag off Lawrence, and everyone leaned in to listen.</p><p>"Stop it," Lawrence pleaded in a whisper.</p><p>"I'm sorry, Mr. Talbot, but we do need you to speak up."</p><p>"I said stop it, you moron!" He growled. "You are a fool! You are all fools!" He yelled at the audience. "Tonight, I will kill all of you!"</p><p>Again, most of the attendees laughed, though the inspector didn't seem to find it amusing.</p><p>"Yes, well. I highly doubt that" Doctor Hoenneger countered, and then he motioned with his hand to someone in the back of the room. "Open the curtain!"</p><p>At this, a pair of men pulled on heavy ropes, drawing the heavy cloth to reveal a large window that overlooked the front of the hospital. Night had already set in, and the moon illuminated the sky with its intense light. The mysterious, silvery orb was already nearing the highest point in the sky, and upon seeing it, a wave of horror swept through Lawrence.</p><p>"No! Somebody do something!" He cried out, struggling against the leather belts that restrained him in his seat. Throughout the day, he had felt the growing power of the Wolf inside of him. His senses had heightened once again, and the drugs they administered daily had stopped having any effect on him. He had even begun to feel the first twinge of pain that foretold what was to come. And yet, the stupidity of these men made his despair increase. How many of them would be dead by the end of the night? How many more would die if he managed to escape?</p><p>Lawrence's gaze swept through the room, desperately seeking aid, when he caught sight of Inspector Aberline. "Kill me!" He said, meeting the man's gaze with his own. In a minute or two, he would transform and then... then they would believe. "Kill me!" He cried out, though it was too late.</p><p>The agonizing sensation of splintering bones bolted through him, and his words were lost in a howl of pain. Lawrence's feet elongated, and his body expanded, ripping the seams of the straight jacket with ease. He fought against the animal instinct that emerged from within. He didn't want to kill anyone, he didn't want to be like his father, but the Wolf was too powerful.</p><p>The audience wasn't laughing anymore. While Doctor Hoenneger droned on about delusions of the mind, everyone else watched the spectacle in mute horror and fascination. Aberline rose to his feet, his mouth open in shock. In the blink of an eye, Lawrence Talbot had disappeared and was replaced by a monstrous creature. It rose seven feet in the air. Its skin was as black as oil and covered by a thick layer of fur of the same color. Its features remained somewhat human, but the eyes were cold and cruel, and the drooling maw showed a row of gleaming fangs.</p><p>Those who had sat at the front let out cries of dismay, and they scrambled backward to get away from the beast. It was then that Doctor Hoenneger noticed something was amiss, and he whipped about, catching a glimpse of the creature behind him. The Wolfman glared evilly at him, licking its teeth when it suddenly gave a fearsome roar. It turned around and lashed out at the guard who had tried to stab him with a tranquilizing needle. The beast's claws cut through his skin like a knife through warm butter, issuing forth a dark splatter of blood and guts.</p><p>That's when the screaming began. The men all ran to the exits, but they were locked in to prevent any interruptions. They pushed and shoved each other, trying to get the furthest away from the Wolfman. Only Aberline stood calm and in control amid the turmoil. His mind worked in a cold and calculated manner, thinking of the options he had to contain the situation. It was one thing for the beast to be out and about in the empty moors, but in the middle of a city like London, it would be a blood bath. He looked around for Carter, but he was lost in the crowd of men attempting to break down the doors.</p><p>By then, the Wolfman had turned its attention to Doctor Hoenneger, who was trying to find the key that would open the side door from where he'd entered the amphitheater. The beast gave a giant leap towards him, and he didn't even have time to react. The doctor was knocked back as the beast tore into him with ferocity. Then, after he was dead, the Wolfman lifted the body over its head and threw it several feet through the air and out one of the windows. Upon hearing the crash, Aberline turned around and felt his mouth run dry as he saw the enormous figure leap through the broken pane. There'd be hell to pay for it now.</p><p>At that moment, the men finally managed to tear down one of the doors, and they ran through the halls of the asylum like madmen themselves. Aberline followed suit, and once outside, he found the doctor's body skewered on the fence. He needed to get help as soon as possible otherwise, half the city would be dead by morning.</p><p>Suddenly a hand grabbed him by the shoulder. "Inspector!" He turned around and saw it was Carter, looking just as shell-shocked as he felt.</p><p>"Do you have your revolver?" He demanded, pulling the young sergeant with him as they rushed down the street.</p><p>He nodded and began searching in the pockets of his coat until he found the gun. He handed it over to Aberline, who quickly checked the gun and then looked up at the rooftops. A large shadow flew by the space between two buildings, and he made up his mind then and there.</p><p>"Listen to me. You have to telegraph the Yard and ask them to issue weapons. We need to set up barricades at key points throughout the city center. Talbot must not escape!" The sergeant nodded, his face grim, but determined.</p><p>"What about you, sir?"</p><p>"I'm going after it. Try to keep it in sight." He started in the direction the shadow had disappeared and then turned around "And Carter?" He called out. "Try to get silver bullets for the men."</p><p>As they split up, a bone-chilling howl echoed in the night, and Aberline looked up just in time to see the figure of the Wolfman perched on top of a statue at the top calling to the moon. It was a terrifying sight, but Aberline was determined to hunt the beast down at whatever the cost.</p><p>"I won't let a monster like this get away from me, not this time."</p>
<hr/><p>Something crawled over Lawrence's body.</p><p>Slowly, he opened his eyes and found himself staring at the beady eyes of a rat. Letting out a gasp, he sat bolt upright, sending the creature flying and squeaking into the darkness. He was not at the asylum anymore, but rather, in a sewer that opened up to a river. He pressed the heel of his hands against his eyes, noting they were covered in blood.</p><p>Getting to his feet, Lawrence crawled to the opening and peeked outside. The sky was the dark gray of dawn, and a light rain had begun to fall. Through its veil, Lawrence saw he was quite close to the London Bridge, and that there were already several boats making their way to and from the docks. Trembling from the cold, he approached the edge of the water and dipped his hands in it, trying to wash them clean. Looking down, he caught sight of his face in the rippling water, and the reflection stunned him. He looked like something from a nightmare. His entire body was filthy, his clothes hung in tattered rags, and the look in his eye was dull and deadened, like that of a corpse.</p><p>
  <em>"I have supped full with horrors. Direness, familiar to my slaughterous thoughts cannot once start me."</em>
</p><p>The words came unbidden to his lips as they had not done for a long while, and Lawrence let out a sigh that almost sounded like a sob, as he sat back down on the ground. He was a shadow of his former self, and now he knew that there was no going back to the life he'd had. Wherever he went, the curse would follow, and he would only be a danger to those around him. What options had he then? The sewers might provide a safe hideout for him, at least for a while, but he dreaded thinking of becoming lost in their dark mazes. Besides, when the full moon came around again, the Wolf would want to hunt, and that would bring him out to the streets again. He could maybe try to reach out to Singh and ask for his help, though that would imply returning to Blackmoor and probably having to face his father. He could also abandon London and make his way across the country, to the desolate moors of the north. There he would probably find solace, but first, he would have to get out the city unseen, and in the approaching daylight, it would prove difficult.</p><p>Suddenly, he heard the trampling of boots overhead. He quickly scrambled back into the darkness and looked through the grating above him. He couldn't see very much except for a pair of feet that stood directly overhead.</p><p>"Look in every alley, in every place you think someone can hide!" A commanding voice said. "Go in pairs, and do not hesitate to shoot if you see Talbot. He is very dangerous." A chorus of voices agreed, and soon the sound of heavy footsteps faded away.</p><p>Panicking, Lawrence realized that the whole of Scotland Yard would be on the lookout for him and that facing them would mean certain death. In a moment, he made a decision, and carefully, he crept out of his hiding place. There was only one place he could go to find the respite he needed, and he silently hoped that he would not be turned away.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Shakespeare quotes on this chapter:</p><p>"I have supped full with horrors. Direness, familiar to my slaughterous thoughts cannot once start me." — Macbeth, “Macbeth”, Act 5, Scene 5</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. New Hunger Moon</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Gwen walked hurriedly through the morning crowd, holding tight to her umbrella. Even though it was raining, the citizens of London went about their business like any other day. Flower girls walked through the crowd offering bunches of flowers. Food vendors pushed their carts over muddy puddles, and paperboys stood on the corners of streets, crying out the latest headlines.</p><p>
  <em>"Madman on the rampage. Kills twelve!"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Asylum patient attacks in Covent Garden!"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Escaped maniac still at large!"</em>
</p><p>On every paper, the front page showed the same photograph of a man with dark features and a deadened look in his eye. It was different from her memories, but Gwen would have recognized him anywhere: Lawrence. Seeing him brought a sharp pain to her heart, and she had to bite her lip to keep from crying then and there. What had happened now? Had he really escaped the asylum? Or was this a way of pinning more crimes on him? Still, her apprehension increased as the articles mentioned the sight of a mysterious creature that had rampaged through half the city? Was this something related to what had happened in Blackmoor? Was it possible that it had been Lawrence all along?</p><p>The drizzle had turned into a heavy rainfall when Gwen finally arrived at the doorstep of her father's antique shop. She crossed the threshold and shut the door behind her, sighing. Inside, the sound of rain and thunder was hardly noticeable, and the quiet darkness that reigned inside somewhat eased her distress. Carefully, she placed the soaked umbrella in a large vase and stooped to pick up the letters that had been slipped underneath the door.</p><p>Her father was away on a short business trip to Paris, and he'd left her in charge of the shop. Charles usually hired a clerk to handle his business while he was away, but this time he had felt his daughter needed an occupation to distract her thoughts from Lawrence Talbot. Gwen had been less than thrilled about this but had refrained from complaining. After Sir John's unexpected visit, she had lived in a state of constant anxiety, and this trip had been a godsend for her.</p><p>She was scanning the envelopes absentmindedly when suddenly she heard a rattle at the back of the shop. Gwen listened for a minute and distinctly heard the soft tread of steps and the thud of wood. Her heart thumped against her chest as she reached for a fire poker and slowly made her way to the back of the store. The shop's neighborhood was usually safe, but she didn't discard the idea that someone could have broken into it.</p><p>Watery light streamed through the windows as she entered the workroom. At first glance, nothing seemed out of place. The tools were all put away in their corresponding boxes, and the worktable was clean. The antiques the craftsman was working on were covered with white sheets, and the back door and windows were untouched. Suddenly, something moved in the shadows beneath one of the tables.</p><p>"Who's there?" Gwen called out, raising her makeshift weapon in the air.</p><p>From the darkness emerged a man wearing ragged clothing. His arm dropped heavily on the floor, and he let out a groan of pain as he turned towards the light.</p><p>The poker fell with a clatter to the floor, and Gwen felt her heart skip a beat as she recognized him. "Lawrence! What are you doing here?!" she cried out, rushing to his side.</p><p>He tried to speak, but a violent cough shook him. Gwen's heart ached as she saw just how thin and pale he was. Even in the dim light, she could see scratch marks and bruises in his arms, and there was a bloody cut above one eyebrow. The skin from his cheeks seemed to sag a bit, and there were deep, purple bags beneath his eyes.</p><p>"Can you stand up?"</p><p>Lawrence nodded and shakily pushed himself off the ground. "I'm sorry, Gwen. There was nowhere else for me to go," he said in a hoarse whisper.</p><p>"It's all right," she said softly as she took his arm and helped him to his feet. "You are safe here."</p><p>He leaned against one of the tables and covered his face with one hand. "I am what they say I am... a werewolf... and so is my father," he said bitterly. "It was he who killed Ben and my mother. It was he who cursed me and turned me into a... a monster."</p><p>A chill spread throughout Gwen's body, and she clasped one hand to her chest while she took hold of the edge of a table with the other. What Lawrence was saying couldn't be possible. A werewolf? How could such a creature exist in this day and age? No, there must be some kind of mistake. Perhaps Lawrence had indeed gone mad, but the way he spoke... so calm and rational. Was this the way an insane person would act?</p><p>The silence prolonged and Lawrence regretted speaking so hastily. He had counted on Gwen's help, but perhaps it was too much to ask of her. On his way to the store, he had heard snatches of conversations about the murderer lose on the streets. No doubt she was already aware of the events of the previous night, and he couldn't blame her for being wary and even afraid of him.</p><p>
  <em>"Woe, destruction, ruin, and decay. The worst is death, and death will have his day."</em>
</p><p>"I don't believe it," she said abruptly, interrupting the dark, whispering voice of his thoughts.</p><p>He looked up at her, surprised. Gwen stepped closer and placed a gentle hand on his arm. "I cannot believe that you could ever be a monster, Lawrence. Whatever the world may think, I trust you, and I know you would never harm me. Please, let's not speak of this again."</p><p>Lawrence gazed into her lovely eyes, finding only affection and concern in them, and at that moment, something gave way within him. He was too weary, too fearful of the world outside to argue. With a grateful look, he nodded, and Gwen felt some of the tension in her drift away.</p><p>"Now, come. Let's get you cleaned up."</p><hr/><p>The Conliffe's shop was located on the first floor of a three-story building, which Charles Conliffe had inherited from a distant relation. Before their business had grown into a small empire, the family had lived above the shop. Gwen could remember spending many afternoons watching passers-by through the window, while her mother played the piano or sat sewing by the fire. After they'd moved to their new home near Mayfair, the shop itself was expanded, but the sitting room and one of the bedrooms had been kept as they were for Charles' convenience.</p><p>"Thank goodness he is away," Gwen thought after she guided Lawrence to the bathroom, and provided soap, towels, a shaving kit, and a set of her father's clothes.</p><p>While he cleaned up, Gwen placed fresh linen on the bed and built up the fire there and in the sitting room. She then put a kettle on for tea and made a mental note to go shopping later that day, as she only found some scones and biscuits for Lawrence. She then sat down before the fire to think. So much had happened in such a short amount of time that she was amazed she had handled it all so calmly. Her thoughts went over Lawrence's words about being a monster and how Sir John himself was to blame for the deaths in his family.</p><p>At last, she understood Ben's desire to get away from Talbot Hall and Lawrence's reluctance to return. She shuddered as she recollected how many times she'd been alone with Sir John during Lawrence's convalescence and his strange behavior when he'd visited her. Still... a werewolf? The idea sounded preposterous, but then, how to explain Ben's mysterious disappearance? Or the fact that nearly two dozen villagers were killed in a couple of months? It couldn't have all been Lawrence. Yet, who else besides the three of them knew of this curse? And then it hit her. Singh, faithful and loyal Singh. He had spent all his youth following Sir John wherever he went. Wouldn't he know? Couldn't he help unravel the mystery, or was he part of the plot too?</p><p>Gwen's head swirled with so many thoughts that she ended up dozing off for a few minutes until she heard steps on the corridor. She turned on her seat and saw Lawrence emerge from the darkness. He had shaved and cut his hair to the best of his abilities, sweeping it away from his face. The clothes she'd lent him looked rather comical as he was much leaner and a good deal taller than her father. This made a small smile appear on her face.</p><p>"The clothes are fine," Lawrence he offered, instantly catching her amusement. "At least they make me look presentable."</p><p>"I am glad of that, at least," Gwen replied, as she went to him and reached out to rearrange the crooked collar of his shirt.</p><p>He stood very still, almost holding his breath as she did so. Her presence was soothing, and it slowly eased the tension in him. "I don't know how I'll ever be able to repay you," he murmured.</p><p>"You don't owe me anything." She said with a catch on her voice, lifting her face towards his. "I will always be here when you need me."</p><p>It was the sweetest offering she had ever made, and Lawrence could not but accept it. He had dreamt of this moment day after day, from the very first time she'd stepped into his life. Without stopping to think, he put a hand beneath her chin and leaned down. His lips had barely brushed her own when suddenly a vision assailed him.</p><hr/><p>It was a recurring nightmare, one of many he had after being submitted to a session of shock therapy. In this vision, his mother came for him to the asylum. She stood inside his cell, surrounded by a fine mist. She was the only thing clean and pure in the darkness of his surroundings, and the ache of her absence coursed through him.</p><p>"Mother? Why are you here?"</p><p>"Come, Lawrence," she said, her hand extended out to him. "I've come to take you home."</p><p>He reached for her like he'd done when he was a child, seeking the comfort of Solana's presence. However, the moment he touched her, she vanished, and Gwen appeared in her place. She looked lovely and enticing, with her hair hanging loose about her shoulders. She stepped close to him, and in a moment, her hands were around his neck, caressing his hair.</p><p>"I've come to be with you, my love," she murmured in his ear.</p><p>Lawrence enveloped her in his arms and felt the soft, tantalizing body pressing against him, driving all rational thought from his mind. He returned Gwen's caresses, weaving his fingers through the lustrous hair, his hands pushing away cloth to reveal silk-smooth skin. He sought her mouth and found it was waiting for him. Their kiss was perfect. She teased him, biting on his lower lip, murmuring nonsensical words that awakened a hungry lust in his veins.</p><p>Suddenly, he heard his brother's voice somewhere behind him, calling for her. Anger swelled inside Lawrence. He did not want to give her up. What right did Ben have over Gwen? He was dead! The voice grew louder, and Lawrence detected a tinge of panic in it. The young woman turned in its direction, but Lawrence pulled her back. Gwen belonged to him.</p><p>The sound of running feet came directly from behind him, and in a moment, Lawrence hurled himself against the figure that burst through the mist. There was a yell that was cut short and then the thud of something falling. Lawrence stepped away from the shape on the ground. It was barely visible above the swirling fog, but a sudden wind parted it to reveal his body lying there. His eyes were open, staring at nothing, and a massive hole was torn in his ribcage where his heart should have been.</p><p>Spooked by the hideous apparition, Lawrence turned back towards Gwen only to discover that she, too, was dead. Her body lay in a pool of blood, torn in long gashes. Terror churned within him, and he backed away, gasping. Lawrence raised his hands to his face, and he noticed they were covered with thick, black fur. Each finger was tipped with a curved claw from which fresh blood dripped. Unable to control his terror, he let out a long scream, but his voice was not his own. Instead, it was replaced by the fierce howl of the Wolf.</p><hr/><p>At this, Lawrence started, and he quickly stepped away from Gwen. "I'm sorry… I can't…" He uttered.</p><p>Gwen dropped her arms, and her throat ached from restraining her desire to cry. Had she overstepped her bounds? Had she done something she ought not?</p><p>Lawrence was trembling violently, and a cold sheen of sweat covered his brow as he paced back and forth. He realized he was afraid, afraid of losing himself to the Wolf within him. He understood little of the disease that spread through his veins, but for what his father had mentioned. Was the moon the only thing that triggered it? Or was it something else? The previous times he'd transformed, he'd felt the beast slowly awaken inside. But, what if it suddenly emerged without warning? What if he remained with Gwen, and he transformed in the middle of the night? What if he hurt her or worse? He couldn't return her kindness by putting her in danger.</p><p>He looked back at her, pain reflected in his eyes. "I am sorry, Gwen. I'll leave immediately."</p><p>Panic shot through her, and in a moment, she crossed the room and barred the doorway. "You can't. They'll be looking for you."</p><p>"I'll hide out in the sewers. I can't put you or your father at risk."</p><p>"Father is away on a business trip to Paris. He won't be back for a week," she replied hastily. "We are all alone."</p><p>He looked down at her, and she felt her heart contract. "That's what I'm afraid of the most," he murmured. "That there is no one to save you from me."</p><p>She started at this. Was she truly in danger? It didn't feel like it. For the first time in a long time, Gwen suffered no anxiety. Lawrence was here. He was alive and well... or at least, as well as he could be. She was content with that.</p><p>"I know that you've lived through unspeakable horrors, but you mustn't be afraid for me. I…" The words she'd held back for a month now got stuck in her throat. She couldn't do that to Lawrence. She couldn't place another burden on him, yet she wished to find the right words to prevent him from leaving her. "Please, stay," she said simply.</p><p>A stronger man could not have resisted that soft plea nor the look of sorrow on her face. Guilt swept through Lawrence as he realized that by coming to her, he was only increasing her suffering, yet he couldn't help himself.</p><p>At long last, he nodded. "I cannot keep denying your help, Gwen," he said. "But I'll stay only for one night." Seeing the relief in her face, he didn't have the heart to add. "They'll be coming to look for me soon enough."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Shakespeare quotes on this chapter:</p><p>"Woe, destruction, ruin, and decay. The worst is death, and death will have his day." — King Richard II, “Richard II”, Act 3, Scene 2</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Waxing Hunger Moon</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Note:</p><p>I realized that I've had Lawrence quoting Shakespeare every so often and I haven't added the source of all his tragical wisdom. I like to think that Lawrence finds comfort in the familiarity of the plays and that they are a way of expressing himself when regular words are not enough. Therefore, I've gone back on all the chapters and added a note at the end with the source of the Shakespearean quotes I used in case anyone is interested in learning more about the original plays and poetry. Many happy readings!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Gwen spent the rest of the day in a flurry of activity. She kept the shop closed for the day and whiled away the time by going through the orders and bills they'd recently received. Afterwards, she went up to the third story to one of the rooms adapted for storage. There she spent more than an hour, sorting through dusty boxes and trunks filled with papers, letters, books, and other odds and ends. One of the trunks contained clothes that must have belonged to her grandparents, for they were at least twenty years out of fashion. She found pants and a large overcoat, but the rest of the clothes were too moth-eaten to be of any use.</p><p>"I suppose they'll do," she thought as she took them down to the sitting room for some mending and brushing.</p><p>As she passed by the room where Lawrence slept, Gwen paused and very gently opened the door. She was afraid that he had left the house without her notice and that she would never hear from him again. A ray of light illuminated the room just enough for her to see he was fast asleep on the bed.</p><p>The sheets were tangled about him, and the cover had almost slipped off the bed, signaling his restlessness. Silently, she stepped inside and pulled the blanket over him, much like she'd done when he was injured.</p><p>Her eyes rested on him for a moment, and she felt her heart contract. His time in the asylum had left its mark on him, yet even now, he seemed at peace. She did not understand the curse he carried, but she knew she loved Lawrence enough to do anything to help him. She only hoped they would both live to see the end of it.</p><hr/><p>Lawrence slept all through the afternoon, and Gwen didn't have the heart to wake him, not even for a meal. She knew she was just pretending that everything would be fine, but deep down she knew, this would probably be the last time they were together.</p><p>The next morning she rose early, having slept on the large couch in the sitting room, and went out to buy some food. The new day remained sad and gray, with dark storm clouds gathering above the city, so Gwen went to the nearest grocery only. There she bought cold meat pies, bread, milk, biscuits, and some apples.</p><p>She stood by the counter, waiting to pay for her purchases when she overheard the conversation between two men who stood behind her with a newspaper between them.</p><p>"' Twas a bloody mad man, is what," one of the men said.</p><p>"Nay! A friend of mine saw it! It was a beast! A monster!"</p><p>"Bollocks!"</p><p>"My friend was a musician at the theater, as it were," exclaimed the second man, shaking his head vigorously. "He saw the beast enter through the open doors and step through the crowd. 'bout half a head taller than anybody else, it was."</p><p>Gwen felt a chill run down her spine, and she quickly handed over a bill from her purse. It was obvious the police were still on the hunt for Lawrence, and she felt the pressing need to hurry back. What if they came to the shop? Were they likely to storm it if they thought no one was there? Hastily, she took the paper package that the grocer handed to her and rushed towards the exit.</p><p>"Blood and guts spilled all over. Bodies ripped to shreds!"</p><p>"Bloody hell!" exclaimed one of the men stepping back and bumping into Gwen.</p><p>"Oh, I do beg your pardon, miss," he said when he noticed her pale face.</p><p>"Tis terrible this thing with the monster running wild here in the city, ain't it?"</p><p>"Indeed it is," she answered, and then giving them a short nod, she rushed outside.</p><hr/><p>An hour later, the bedroom door opened, and Lawrence emerged from it. He still had a haunted look, but he did not seem as tired nor as pale as the day before. The clothes Gwen had found for him fit well enough, and now he prepared for what he knew would be a difficult moment for them both.</p><p>As he walked down the hall, he saw the small table in the sitting room was covered with a white table cloth and laden with warm pies, bread, and fruit. The scent of freshly made coffee and tea wafted towards him, and he distinctly heard his stomach growl. Gwen appeared then, carrying a tray with plates and cups, and he paused in the shadows to watch her.</p><p>"<em>I know I love in vain, strive against hope. Yet in this captious and intenible sieve, I still pour in the waters of my love</em>," he thought, as the domesticity of the scene awakened a deep yearning in his heart.</p><p>At that moment, Gwen looked up and noticed him. His gaze was warm and soft, and it took her a moment to realize that it was she who made it so. Her cheeks reddened, but she willed herself to remain calm as she set down the teapot.</p><p>"I didn't mean to wake you," she said as a manner of greeting.</p><p>"You didn't," he replied, sitting down on the chair opposite her. He could sense the tension radiating from her, but he did not know what to say or do.</p><p>"Is this for me?" Lawrence motioned to the food with his head.</p><p>"Yes, would you like some breakfast?"</p><p>"Only if you'll join me."</p><p>A small smile appeared on her face as she proceeded to offer him coffee and fill his plate with a little of everything. Gwen could only get down a piece of toast with jam and some tea as they both attempted to make light conversation. She knew this was to be their goodbye, yet she was still unable to accept Lawrence's fate. What was he to do when he left? Who could he turn to for help but her? If she could only convince him to stay with her until she found a cure...</p><p>When Lawrence was done, he offered to help clean up, but Gwen dismissed this with a shake of her head. Dirty dishes were the last thing she cared for at the moment.</p><p>"I can help you," she said, setting down her teacup.</p><p>Lawrence sighed and shook his head. "There is no help for me."</p><p>"If such things exist. If they are even possible, then everything is," Gwen said in a trembling voice. "Magic? Fairies? Good, and evil? I can find a way to stop it."</p><p>For a moment, Lawrence said nothing. Why was she doing this for him? How had Gwen come to care for him so much? But even as he questioned himself, he knew the answer: she loved him. Impossibly, Gwen loved him, and she was willing to put her life in danger to save him. The thought made him want to laugh with joy, and he felt tears sting his eyes. Never before had he the privilege of being loved so much.</p><p>Suddenly, he knelt before Gwen and took her hands in his. "I must confess I envy my brother and the days he had with you. What joy he must have felt."</p><p>As he spoke, Lawrence bent his head down and placed a kiss on each of her palms. Gwen gasped as she felt the warmth of his touch rush to the rest of her body. She had never experienced the sensation before, and instinctively, she leaned forward, towards him.</p><p>"I would have given anything I own to have known you in another life, Gwen," Lawrence spoke earnestly. He was watching her with a sad and resolute light in his olive-colored eyes. "I must get back to Talbot Hall and end this."</p><p>Then he stood up, breaking the magic of the moment. He grabbed the coat and hat she'd given him from the back of his chair and turned to look at Gwen one last time.</p><p>She hastened to her feet, tears threatening to pour from her eyes. "Lawrence, please, let me help you!"</p><p>"You already have," he replied before descending to the shop.</p><p>Gwen rushed after him. She could not bear thinking of remaining behind like a helpless child while he disappeared from her life. "I have to tell him," she thought. "It'll be a burden to us both, but I have to tell him or regret letting him go forever."</p><p>A dim light filtered through the high windows of the workshop as Lawrence neared the back door. He could not bear to say goodbye to Gwen, but there would be no peace for them while his father continued to live.</p><p>"Lawrence, don't!" He heard her say.</p><p>"Just stay here with me." She begged, grabbing hold of his arm, placing herself between him and the door. "Stay here with ME."</p><p>Lawrence looked down at her hands: one resting on his chest, the other clutching his arm fervently, and then he shut his eyes. What would it be like to wake each morning beside her? What would she look like in the private moments of their shared life? What would growing old be like? To see time pass over her beloved face, but never lessen the passion he felt for her.</p><p>"<em>For where thou art, there is the world itself, and where thou art not, desolation</em>," Lawrence thought, even as understood that he was never meant to have that life.</p><p>He opened his eyes again, making some terrible peace with himself. Gwen could see it coming, could sense the parting words, but she would not have it. Whatever Lawrence might have said was lost as she closed the distance between them and pressed her lips against his, making the moment her own.</p><p>As Gwen kissed him for the first time and never again, warmth poured into every part of Lawrence's soul, breaking down the wall of ice that had built up around him. She had placed herself in his arms, but it was he who was at her command. Gwen reached across his back to bring him closer, and he willingly obeyed, deepening the kiss and tasting the sweetness of her love.</p><p>Her hands slid over his neck towards his face, leaving a burning streak on his skin. She wanted to memorize him, to hold in her heart that for one brief moment, he had been hers. Lawrence kissed her mouth, her cheeks, her eyes. He traveled down her jaw and pressed his lips against her regal neck, losing himself in her. Gwen let out a soft gasp and sought his mouth once more, desperately, willing him to remain with her for another day, another hour, another instant...</p><p>But then a sharp sound cut through the air as someone knocked on the shop's door.</p><p>Gwen and Lawrence stopped as they were: still clasped to each other, still breathless. His hair was a mess, and some of the buttons of her blouse had come undone. She turned her eyes to the door even as Lawrence pressed his cheek against hers, sighing. Whatever time they had together was gone.</p><p>The knock came again, harsh and insistent, and Gwen perceived a shadow through the frosted glass panes.</p><p>"You have to go," Lawrence whispered in her ear.</p><p>Gwen gazed at him with all the pain in her heart, and he gave her one last, passionate kiss before releasing her.</p><p>It took all of Gwen's will to pull away from Lawrence, and as she went to the front room of the store, she paused to look back at him. His eyes were still full of love for her, yet he managed to give her an encouraging nod. She bit her lip and then tried to gather herself as she went to open the door.</p><hr/><p>Outside Inspector Aberline stood in the rain, accompanied by three men as well as several constables who stood beside a police cart. Even at that early hour, they were already drawing the neighbors' attention, and she saw several people leaning out of their windows for a better look.</p><p>"Miss Conliffe," said Aberline, crisp and polite. "I'm sorry to disturb you at this hour. May I impose on you?"</p><p>Her stomach clenched in panic. Had Lawrence found time to hide? She couldn't very well keep them outside, or they'd know she was hiding something.</p><p>"My father is away on a business trip, Inspector." Her eyes drifted over his shoulder at the men behind him.</p><p>"Of course." Aberline nodded to a blond man with cold eyes who stood at his right. They backed away, but as Gwen allowed the inspector in, she noticed they kept their hands on their hips, ready to draw their guns should they need to. Clearly, this was not a social visit.</p><p>"What can I do for you today, Inspector?" Gwen asked as she turned around in the center of the room. If she could somehow keep him from entering the shop, Lawrence might have a chance to run upstairs and hide.</p><p>Aberline took his time studying her. She did not seem altered or surprised, though he noted there was a sad light in her eyes that somewhat softened his disposition towards her. After all, she was a victim of this as well as anyone.</p><p>"I'm sure you are aware of what happened two nights ago at Lambeth Hospital, so I'll cut down to the chase. Have you seen Lawrence Talbot, Miss Conliffe?"</p><p>"I am aware, and no, I haven't seen him," she answered in what she hoped was a serene tone.</p><p>Aberline sighed. "I know this is difficult for you, but you are putting yourself in unimaginable danger should you find yourself in his presence."</p><p>As he said this, he extended that day's paper with the same photograph of Lawrence she'd seen before. However, this time, it was accompanied by a crude sketch of a wolf walking on two legs. Gwen paled as she skimmed the paper and saw the words "werewolf" in several places of the article.</p><p>"If I see him, I will be careful, Inspector."</p><p>Aberline couldn't help feel sorry for Gwen. He had taken a liking to her from the beginning of their acquaintance, but he was not about to let her sensibilities get in the way of his investigation. He stepped a little closer to her and spoke softly.</p><p>"I commend you for your effort. You obviously believe he can be saved, but I was at the asylum when Talbot escaped, and I witnessed what that monster is capable of doing."</p><p>"He's not a monster!" Gwen stated at once, losing her calm countenance. "Whatever you or anyone may think, Lawrence is a man."</p><p>Aberline raised an eyebrow at the vehemence of her words. "It is not what I think, Miss Conliffe. A man's actions define his character, and Talbot's actions are monstrous, are they not?</p><p>Gwen jaw tightened. She hardly expected to have a moral discussion with Aberline, but she could not accept that logic. Whatever was happening to Lawrence, inside, he was still a person capable of thinking and feeling. He was still capable of love.</p><p>"I don't believe I am learned enough to give my opinion on such matters, Inspector," she said firmly. "But, I dearly hope you never find yourself in his place. You would find such judgment cruel and unfair."</p><p>Aberline would not have looked as shocked if she'd slapped him across the face. "I see that whatever I say will not have any effect on you, Miss Conliffe. Therefore, I'm going to insist you accompany me." He said, taking her by the arm.</p><p>"What are you doing?" Gwen cried out, struggling against his grasp. "I already told you, he's not here!"</p><p>"I'm sorry, Miss Conliffe, but you are preventing his Majesty's law from being carried out," he said as he pulled her outside.</p><p>"Let me go!"</p><p>"Hold her back!" Aberline barked, handing her to one of the men who stood waiting outside the door.</p><p>The next moment, chaos exploded. The police had set up wooden fences, blocking half of the street in front of the shop. Many passersby stopped to watch with curiosity, and her neighbors had come out of their buildings as well.</p><p>"He's going to find him! He's going to kill him!" She thought as she was dragged towards one of the police carts by a constable, Gwen could hear appalled exclamations from the crowd. She was making a spectacle of herself, but she didn't care.</p><p>At that moment, she slipped from the constable's grasp and rushed towards the building. However, the man with cold eyes stepped outside at that moment, blocking her way.</p><p>"Where do you think you're going?" He exclaimed, catching her by the waist.</p><p>They struggled for a few moments, and then there was a shout from inside, followed by several gunshots.</p><p>"No! No!" Gwen screamed, fighting to be released with every ounce of strength she had.</p><p>However, Aberline's man managed to pin her arms down, nearly crushing her with the force he was using. Gwen gave up at last, and she watched the entrance of the store through the thin veil of rain. An eternity seemed to pass, and then Aberline stepped outside, looking displeased.</p><p>"Let her go, Carter," he commanded as he approached them.</p><p>The man released Gwen just as the inspector handed her an umbrella he carried with him, and which she recognized as her own.</p><p>"I apologize for the inconvenience and the rough treatment, Miss Conliffe," He said curtly. "A few pieces were damaged, but we shall, of course, pay for them."</p><p>Gwen did not speak a word. Her blue-gray eyes took an icy quality, and for a moment, Aberline was sorry to have lost her goodwill. "I am only doing my job to keep this city safe. I hope you can understand that." He added as an apology.</p><p>"A man's actions define his character, Inspector," she said before heading inside the shop and shutting the door firmly behind her.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Shakespeare quotes on this chapter:</p><p>"I know I love in vain, strive against hope. Yet in this captious and intenible sieve, I still pour in the waters of my love." — Helena, "All's Well That Ends Well", Act 1, Scene 3</p><p>"For where thou art, there is the world itself, and where thou art not, desolation." — Suffolk, "Henry VI, Second Part", Act 3, Scene 2</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Full Hunger Moon</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>That night, Gwen began searching through all the books her father owned both in the shop and at home. She scoured the darkest corners in both buildings bringing out boxes and disintegrating papers, sorting through them in search of an answer. The activity helped distract her, though every once in a while, she would find herself holding back a sob. Despite what Lawrence had said, she had decided to find some way to beat the curse.</p>
<p>At the end of that strenuous week, Gwen had gathered a large collection of books: histories, mythologies, and a few obscure titles on mysticism. She began pouring over the texts, and she was surprised to find that lycanthropy was not some strange, unknown evil. It was, in fact, a well-documented belief throughout history, and almost every ancient culture had something to say about it. In the beginning, this gave her some hope, but she soon found that none of the texts ever spoke of a cure. Most authors simply stated that beheading the beast bearing the curse of the Wolf was the only solution.</p>
<p>Upon his return from abroad, Charles Conliffe found his home in chaos. Gwen had taken over his study, and piles of books and papers were haphazardly spread over his desk. When he prompted his daughter for an explanation, she replied that she was cleaning out the shop's attic and that many of these books would be sold or donated. Like always, Charles accepted her answer without further questioning. He was happy to see Gwen so active after nearly a month of sadness. Maybe she was getting over the Talbot's at long last. The thought gave him comfort, and he slowly returned to his old routine. It was evident that there was no further need to keep a close watch on her.</p>
<p>Little did he know that this frenzy was merely the exterior sign of the turmoil within Gwen. It became an obsession, and most of her time was spent pouring over books and taking pages and pages of notes with the hope of understanding the nature of the Wolf's curse. That was her goal now, to find a cure for Lawrence and give him his life back, and she would not let anyone stop her from achieving it. However, two weeks later, Gwen was nowhere near finding an explanation, and she grew more and more discouraged. She had until the next full moon to find a cure to save Lawrence, but her resources seemed to have run out.</p>
<p>She was sitting in the middle of her father's study, sifting through a box, when she suddenly came across an old, thin volume of Eastern folklore. The book was so ragged that the pages fell freely from between its covers, which accounted for its diminished thickness. She turned a couple of pages, scanning them, but not looking for anything specific, when a small vignette caught her attention. It was a grotesque drawing of a wolf standing on two legs, with a silvery moon hanging above it.</p>
<p>
  <em>"A vlkodlak as it is known by the Balkan Romani, is a malevolent human who has been cursed to become a wolf-like creature. This being is a subject to the waxing and waning of the moon, achieving its greatest power when it is at its fullest. Normal weapons have no effect on the vlkodlak, though it is said that invoking Saint Columbanu's name will ward it off. It is also believed that speaking the transformed person's true name three times will make the vlkodlak vulnerable. However, only the touch of the Incorruptible Metal can draw the curse from it, though none have lived to confirm or deny this claim."</em>
</p>
<p>The moment she read this, Gwen realized she had finally found something that could help her. She slid her hand around her neck and tugged at the thin chain where she kept the medal Lawrence gave her. She inspected it once more and saw the inscription on it: Saint Columbanus. At the time, she had not understood its importance or how it came to be in his possession, but it all made sense now. The book spoke of Romani folklore, and Lawrence had been in the gypsy camp outside of Blackmoor when he was attacked. This probably meant that he had gotten the medallion from them, and knowing the story behind it, he had passed it on to her for protection.</p>
<p>Gwen was trying to think of what to do with this piece of information when there was a soft knock on the door of the study.</p>
<p>"Pardon the interruption, Miss," said Helen from the doorway. "I have today's correspondence."</p>
<p>Gwen glanced up at her, slightly irritated at the interruption, though she didn't show it. Since she'd begun her research, she had told the household not to bother her when she was in the study. They had been slightly confused by her request, but they had mostly abided by her instructions. Like her father, they felt this was a phase she was going through to recover from her fiance's death and the subsequent events.</p>
<p>"I'll have that then, Helen," she answered, reaching out her hand for the thick wad of envelopes. She was too caught up with her discovery to pay attention to something so insignificant.</p>
<p>"Most are for Mr. Conliffe, but there's a letter there for you as well, Miss."</p>
<p>It took a moment for Gwen to register the meaning of the words, but when it did, she felt her heart skip a beat. After the maid left, she quickly flipped through the letters with trembling fingers until she found the one addressed to her. The handwriting on the envelope was one she had never seen before. It was firm and precise, without any frills or loops, and it seemed to have been written in haste as there were several spots where the ink had dripped. Was it from Lawrence? Gwen had never seen his handwriting before, but she didn't think he would risk discovery by sending a letter. But then, who else would write to her?</p>
<p>She reached for the small knife on her father's desk and slit open the envelope. There was only a single page inside, and it was dated a week back. Gwen unfolded it, and she was thunderstruck when her eyes settled on the signature at the bottom. The letter was not from Lawrence, but rather from Singh.</p>
<p>Singh! So much had happened in the last month that Gwen had almost forgotten about Sir John's companion. Yet, her receiving a letter from him at this moment felt like a sign. She read the missive once and then all over again, feeling her pulse quicken. Whether intentionally or not, Singh had just given her the last piece of the puzzle, and she now knew where her path lay.</p>
<p>She had to go back to Blackmoor and find the gypsies at whatever the cost. If what the book and Singh said was true, then maybe, just maybe, there was a chance that Lawrence could be freed. She only hoped that she would be able to find the woman Singh mentioned in the letter, the one called Maleva, in time.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Lawrence sat on the edge of a cave where he had taken refuge from a deluge that began two days before. Though the weather hindered his progress, he didn't mind too much. It had been a long time since he'd had nothing to do but sit at his leisure to rest and think about the most recent events.</p>
<p>As Gwen had spoken to Inspector Aberline, Lawrence had quickly left through the shop's back door. Outside, he hurriedly put on his coat and hat and walked unto the street as casually as he could. He did not doubt that the police would be patrolling the areas nearest to the shop, so he preferred to put as much distance between him and them.</p>
<p>He turned one corner and then another, carefully watching for signs that he was being followed. He was so nervous that he nearly collided with an older woman who walked in front of him. She turned to give him an indignant look, and Lawrence thought he saw a flash of recognition in her eyes. He kept walking, aware of how she might think he was following her, but he didn't want to go into a store and risk exposing himself further. On the corner of the street, he saw a boy selling newspapers and quickly grabbed one of them, hiding his face in between the pages. He waited for a few beats, and then lowered the paper only to find the boy gawking up at him. He then noted the front page, which displayed his face back at him. He offered a tight smile and, after handing the boy a pound out of his pocket, he took the entire sheaf of papers and continued on his way.</p>
<p>An hour later, Lawrence had reached the edge of the city, and he stopped to look at it one last time. The clouds still hung low in the sky, but the rain had mercifully stopped. The ever-present layer of smoke dirtied part of the landscape, but otherwise, he could see everything from one end of the Thames to the other. Somewhere among the buildings of this great city was Gwen, and he dearly hoped that she was safe. He let out a sigh and shook his head, dispelling the wave of sadness that threatened to overcome him. There was no going back now. He had to get to Blackmoor and confront his father, and he had to do it before the full moon came upon him again. Shaking off the uncertainty, he began walking, following the train tracks he knew led north.</p>
<p>Lawrence spent that first night in the abandoned hull of an old barn. The interior had been dirty and full of cobwebs, but at least it had been relatively warm. He had lain on an old pile of dry straw and had immediately fallen asleep. There had been no dreams or nightmares, only the peaceful quiet of darkness, for which he was grateful. He awoke the next day at the break of dawn, hungry but well-rested. Nearby there was a pond surrounded by a few berry bushes that still held some fruits on them. He drank deeply from the cold water and filled his pockets with berries, setting out immediately to continue his journey. He figured it would take him about two to three weeks to reach Blackmoor, skirting the larger towns as much as possible, and keeping to the road drawn out by the train tracks. It wasn't difficult terrain, but Lawrence's condition was a poor one, and he had to stop more often than he wanted.</p>
<p>The second day brought him to the small town of Bricket Wood on a market day. There, lost among the many shoppers, Lawrence was able to trade his clothes for something more appropriate for traveling. He also got an old, leather bag in which he placed a pocket knife, a metal flask, and an old blanket. Gwen had given him some money, but he intended to make careful use of it, as he didn't know what conditions he would find himself in during his journey. He strolled among the food stalls and managed to barter for several loaves of day-old bread and a wedge of cheese that would last a couple of days. He also bought nuts and apples, and he couldn't stop himself from getting a small tin of shortbread biscuits from a young girl.</p>
<p>Satisfied with his acquisitions, Lawrence took leave of the small town, and as he did so, he realized just how much his life had changed in a short amount of time. He had gone from a well-known actor to an insane asylum ward, and then to a simple peasant. The things that seemed important but a few months before, were now vapid and superficial in his eyes. Before he had had everything: fame, glory, and applause, but his life had been empty. Now, he had nothing, not even the prospect of a long life, but he had learned to appreciate the small things.</p>
<p><em>"My crown is in my heart, not on my head; not decked with diamonds and Indian stones, nor to be seen: my crown is called content, a crown it is that seldom kings enjoy," </em>he thought to himself as he walked into the woods.</p>
<p>A quiet, hidden life was certainly not one he had ever pictured for himself, yet it occurred to him that perhaps it would be more worthwhile to live. That is if he ever managed to get rid of the curse.</p>
<p>Now, as he sat alone with these thoughts, Lawrence finally allowed himself to think of Gwen and of that moment in the antique shop. She'd desperately clung to him, and the look in her eyes had almost been enough to make him reconsider his decision. What he had told her was true. He did envy his brother for having the privilege of her love. There had been times when he'd detected affection from her part, but he hadn't dared breach the gap between them. It would have been an offense to Ben's memory, but then, she had kissed him.</p>
<p>Lawrence would have never expected it from Gwen, yet that kiss was like a balm for his soul. Her touch, her caresses, even the way she'd sighed, all signaled her love for him, and he basked in it without regrets. There was no past or future for them, only the present, reduced to a single moment of bliss.</p>
<p><em>"I had liv'd a blessed time; for, from this instant, there's nothing serious in mortality,"</em> he thought, putting his fingers to his lips. He could almost feel her touch on them, and the sharp stab of longing made his heart throb.</p>
<p>She was the only thing that kept him going, a single, shining star in the dark firmament of his thoughts. Lawrence knew that his decision to confront his father did not come from a sense of revenge, but rather from a sense of duty and love for her. He was willing to sacrifice his life to give Gwen a chance of happiness. She deserved it for all she'd done for him and Ben. His only regret was that he would not be there to see her smile once more.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Shakespeare quotes on this chapter:</p>
<p>"My crown is in my heart, not on my head; not decked with diamonds and Indian stones, nor to be seen: my crown is called content, a crown it is that seldom kings enjoy." — King Henry VI, Henry VI, Part 3, Act 3, Scene 2</p>
<p>"I had liv'd a blessed time; for, from this instant, there's nothing serious in mortality." — Macbeth, "Macbeth", Act 2, Scene 3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Waning Hunger Moon</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Note: Apologies for taking so long to write this chapter! I sort of hit a roadblock as I hadn't actually planned to write what happens in this chapter, so it took me a while to figure out what I wanted to say and how I wanted to say it! We are nearing the end of this first part of the story and I want to make sure I am satisfied with it. I promise the closing chapters will flow more smoothly! Happy readings!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Next stop Blackmoor!"</p><p>The sound of the conductor's voice startled Gwen from a light sleep. As she opened her eyes, she noticed how dark the sky outside her window had grown. The sun had long set, and there was only a slight hint of purple left on the edge of the horizon. It would be nighttime by the time she arrived in the village.</p><p>As she gazed outside, Gwen's heart clenched thinking of her father, and the shock he would receive when he found out she had left. She had explained as much as she could in a letter she had left in his study, hoping her reassurances would be enough for him. She didn't need him to come chasing after her, not while the police were still on the hunt for Lawrence, not when the task ahead of her was so important.</p><p>Upon arriving in Blackmoor Village, Gwen immediately went to the inn and asked for a room for a two-week stay. The innkeeper's wife looked at her with a slightly suspicious look in her eyes. Only then did it occur to Gwen how odd it might look for a young lady of her station to be traveling unaccompanied and without a real reason for it. However, the woman accepted her money without question or comment, and she had her meager luggage carried to a room that was small but neat.</p><p>As she settled in for the night, Gwen thought that she'd have to be extra careful to make sure no word of her presence reached the Hall. It was a fact that Sir John seldom left his estate, but the thought of meeting him again filled her with dread. She didn't think she could pretend that nothing was wrong when she now knew the truth about him, nor what her excuse would be to find herself so near Talbot Hall. He might get the wrong idea.</p><p>Shaking her head, Gwen burrowed her face in her pillow and shut her eyes. She needed to focus on one thing and one thing only: to find the gypsy woman and free Lawrence.</p><hr/><p>The next day, Gwen set out early on a hired horse. She planned to visit the smaller villages surrounding Blackmoor in the hope of finding any of the gypsy caravans that roamed the area. If not, then she'd set out across the countryside and hope she would somehow stumble upon them. There were still a few days before the full moon, but she felt the need to hurry. Deep down, Gwen knew that Lawrence was going to confront his father, and she was uncertain of what would happen between them, but she had a feeling that nothing good would come from their meeting.</p><p>That first day, she rode to West Kington, a hamlet smaller than Blackmoor, and asked about gypsies. The people eyed her with some suspicion. No doubt they wondered what a gentlewoman like her would have to do with gypsies, but they answered her questions as best they could. A small group had passed a few days before, and it was safe to assume they were still in the area. However, none were able to identify the woman she described.</p><p>For the next few days, Gwen set out early and traveled the countryside in search of Maleva. She went to the nearby villages of Biddestone, Lanhill, and Nettleton, but her search proved fruitless. It seemed that the smaller the town, the more wary people were about giving her information. They had heard about the goings-on in Blackmoor and they didn't want anything to do with anyone that came from the village, lest they attracted the evil that resided there. Therefore, Gwen began extending her search in the country between settlements.</p><p>She traveled through the rich, green farmland that extended up to the moors. She stopped at small road-side pubs and listened to the conversations of the patrons who ate there. She also made small talk with the stable hands and grooms that helped care for her horse. The men were often bashful around her, but a small smile was all it took to get them talking. Most did not really pay attention to the last time they'd seen the gypsies, though one did mention he'd seen an old woman traveling in one of the covered wagons. However, by the end of the week, Gwen began to despair. She had scoured the countryside and all the villages without any luck. Only once did she come across a band on the road between Wraxall and Blackmoor, but they had merely shaken their heads when she'd asked about Maleva.</p><p>Every night, after supper, she went over Singh's letter, wondering if she had somehow misunderstood his meaning. All it said was that the gypsy woman could provide some aid in finding a cure for the Wolf's curse. It seemed an impossible task, like trying to find a needle in a haystack, but every time she felt her courage diminish, she had only to think of Lawrence and the terrible things he'd gone through. His love kept her strong, and she reminded herself of it every day.</p><hr/><p>A week after Gwen arrived at Blackmoor, she rode to the town of Thickwood, where she'd heard some gypsies had made camp. However, the day was sad and overcast, and people began talking about the coming of a storm. Since Gwen didn't fancy riding through the countryside in bad weather, she decided it was best for her to return to Blackmoor as early as possible and continue her search once the weather improved. She quickly finished her meal, paid for it, and went out to the stable to ask for her horse to be prepared. A boy immediately went to fetch her saddle and bridle, and Gwen stood by her horse's stall, gently petting its head when someone whispered behind her.</p><p>"Miss! Miss!"</p><p>Gwen turned around and saw a woman standing just outside the stable. Her face was hidden beneath a heavy veil, but her clothes and the colorful shawl she wore draped over one shoulder gave away her gypsy origins.</p><p>"What is it you want with me?" She said, speaking in a heavy accent.</p><p>"Are you Maleva?" Gwen asked softly.</p><p>"I am."</p><p>A thrill ran through the young woman. At long last, she had found her!</p><p>Gwen looked around the stable. There was no one in there but herself, so they could have a quiet conversation with anyone overhearing. She motioned to the woman to follow her and led her to an empty stall away from the main entrance.</p><p>"What is it you want?" Maleva asked again as she uncovered her face.</p><p>Like Lawrence before her, Gwen was surprised at the woman's appearance. Though her face had many lines and wrinkles, she exuded strength and vitality, much as Singh did. Her eyes were full of wisdom and of a light, grey color that made them seem as though filled with moonlight.</p><p>"Lawrence Talbot," she answered, clutching her hands together.</p><p>Maleva lifted one eyebrow. "What about him?"</p><p>That she did not ask who he was, encouraged Gwen. This woman must have known what had happened to Lawrence, maybe even been at the gypsy camp when he was attacked.</p><p>"I was told you could help me save him."</p><p>"I have no power over what ails him," the gypsy woman replied in a clipped tone. "You should leave him to his fate."</p><p>"Please, there must be a way." Gwen pulled out a carefully folded piece of paper from her pocket and showed it to her. "I've searched in every book I could find. This says your people have long-held beliefs about such things, and mentions something called the Incorruptible Metal. I need to know what it is and how it will free Lawrence from the curse."</p><p>Maleva opened the piece of paper and glanced down at the vignette she pointed out. There was something about this young woman that intrigued her. She was passionate, courageous, and driven. She studied Gwen carefully, and her gaze settled on the medallion that hung from a thin chain around her neck. A look of shock flashed across her face as she recognized it. Maleva had lived long enough to understand that there were no such things as coincidences. Still, the sight of the medallion filled her with an inexplicable sense of dread.</p><p>"Many have stood in your place before, asking for aid, begging for a cure, yet none have succeeded. What makes you think you will, child?"</p><p>"Just tell me what to do," Gwen said, hope strengthening her tone.</p><p>The old woman stared at her, her eyes assessing the young woman before her. "Do you love him?"</p><p>Gwen remembered the last look Lawrence had given her before they parted, and she felt the color rise in her cheeks. "I do."</p><p>"Then you must be willing to make sacrifices. He understood and accepted this, and so should you," Maleva said, handing back the piece of paper.</p><p>Gwen felt a chill run down her spine as she took back the paper. Maleva's words were harsh but true. Lawrence had accepted his fate. Had she wasted her time searching for Maleva? Should she resign herself to it? She thought of Singh's letter. How he pleaded for her to save Lawrence. Would he have sent her on this mission, if there wasn't any hope?</p><p>"I can't stand by and let him be killed," Gwen said desperately. "Please, help me!"</p><p>Maleva glanced at the medallion once more. It had traveled a long road and been passed from hand to hand only to come back to her at a crucial moment. If this young woman wore it, then perhaps it was a sign that she was meant to bear this burden.</p><p>She reached out and took Gwen's hand, turning the palm towards her. It took Maleva only a few moments to realize she already knew who this young woman was. She had seen her described in the cards more than once, and now she understood how strong was her bond to the Talbot family. She was the Star, the light of that kept Lawrence Talbot from succumbing to darkness. Could she abandon her in her moment of need? Could she allow the curse of the Wolf to endure unchecked by anyone or anything? She, too, had a responsibility to act and protect her people.</p><p>After several moments of silence, Maleva came to a decision. "The metal of which you speak of is nothing more than silver."</p><p>Gwen was perplexed. Silver? How could something as common as silver possess power enough to defeat the Wolf? "How does it work? What am I supposed to do with it?"</p><p>"Silver is an element naturally linked to the moon and, therefore, has the same purifying properties. According to legend, only a silver weapon will stop the <em>vlkodlak</em>."</p><p>Gwen paled. "Do you mean I have to... use it against him?"</p><p>Maleva nodded. "It is the only way, child. If he lives, he will be forever condemned. Will you allow that, or will you set him free?"</p><p>Gwen had come to the crux of the matter. She knew Lawrence could live on despite the curse, but it would be a wretched existence for him. He would have to lock himself away and face the pain of transforming once a month, always running the risk of harming someone. And even if they found a way to manage it, what if the Wolf consumed him as it had Sir John? Could she ask that of him? No, as much he loved her, Gwen knew she wasn't in any position to demand that of him. And yet the alternative was something she was unwilling to contemplate.</p><p>"I can't! I won't! He is still in there!" Gwen replied desperately. "Please, tell me what to do."</p><p>For the first time, the woman's face slackened with emotion. She gave Gwen a look full of sadness and understanding. She would have wished to give her counsel and hope, but she didn't dare make the choice for her.</p><p>"I can do no more for you," she said softly. She then put one hand against Gwen's forehead and blessed her. "May the saints protect you and give you strength and wisdom to do what you must."</p><p>Gwen closed her eyes and felt the woman's soft touch on her head, and felt warmth spread through her. Maleva had given her what she'd wanted. She had provided a solution to her problem, though it was not what she expected. The choice was now before her, and she needed to come to a decision quickly. The full moon was nearly upon her.</p><p>Tears spilled from her cheeks as she opened her eyes, but even then, she managed to have a smile for Maleva. "Thank you," she murmured. "Thank you for your help."</p><hr/><p>There was only a dark sliver missing from the moon when Lawrence finally arrived at Blackmoor. He had spent many days traveling in harsh conditions, and there had been moments when he'd been hungry and cold. At those times, he would retreat to his memories of kinder times, trying to distract his mind from the pressing needs of his body. It often worked, though there were one or two occasions when he'd ended up raiding a field or orchard to find something to eat. Other than that, his travels were uneventful. As he slowly made his way to his former home, Lawrence thought ahead at the final confrontation with his father.</p><p>Sir John was probably already aware of his escape from Lambeth, and ready to receive his son. It certainly proved a disadvantage for Lawrence, who had thought of quietly entering the Hall and seeking out Singh. Surely after all he'd been through, he would be willing to help him. If not, then Lawrence needed only to go up to his room and get the silver bullets and a gun before facing his father.</p><p>As he considered all of this in a calculating, matter-of-fact manner, Lawrence realized he had not once felt any remorse as he planned his father's death. It wasn't hatred what drove him to this confrontation, but rather a sense of responsibility to put an end to one who had tormented so many. He knew he would never get out of this alive. It was the price to pay for the peace he needed, but if his sacrifice served to protect the one person in his life that mattered, then it would be worth it.</p><p>As he neared the country around Blackmoor village, he had noticed a lot of movement along the road. Several times caravans of carriages galloped past him, and once, he'd had to hide beneath a bridge from a group of horsemen. He had never seen so much activity on these roads, and he suspected that Inspector Aberline had not been idle either.</p><p>The memory of the man brought on a surge of anger within him, and Lawrence had to stop to take a couple of breaths. He could feel the Wolf inside of him, slowly coming awake. It was the first sign that it was growing strong once more. He had hoped to have more time before the next moon, but it appeared he had miscalculated. What if he arrived and he had already transformed? Would he able to hold his father back long enough to put a bullet in him? And then Lawrence realized how silly this thought was. It wouldn't matter if his father had transformed or not, because the curse would affect him also. He too, could change into a vicious killing machine and use that to defeat him.</p><p><em>"I will be treble-sinewed, hearted, breathed, and fight maliciously. I'll set my teeth and send to darkness all that stop me,"</em> he thought.</p><p>Lawrence waited until the following night to enter his former home. He made his way through the backwoods and into the gardens, keeping away from any open spaces that might announce his arrival. The night was crisp and cold. It was one of those winter nights when nothing stirred, and the silence was so deep that it seemed loud in Lawrence's ears. The Hall looked ahead of him, dark and foreboding as ever.</p><p>The Hall looked gloomier than ever. The vines had rotted away from the walls from all the rain, and they lay like a dark mass around the exterior of the house. There were no visible lights, and the windows revealed nothing but vast darkness. The house looked just the way it had done in Lawrence's nightmares. It was a house full of misery and dread. A house that hid ghosts and secrets, and which would swallow him whole in any second.</p><p>With care, he approached the front steps. There were no signs of movement anywhere, and he dared to give the door a gentle push. It swung open in silent hinges and dry leaves scattered behind him as the cold, moorish wind blew in. Taking a deep breath and steeling himself, Lawrence crossed the threshold.</p><p>There was very little light coming in from the outside, and he took pains not to bump into any furniture. He heard nothing other than the wind, the faint creak of wood, and the pulsing beat of his heart. Suddenly, a draft blew in through the open door, and Lawrence detected movement ahead of him.</p><p>He blinked several times to get his eyes accustomed to the darkness and noted that the figure was suspended in mid-air, in the center of the foyer. It moved slightly with the breeze, but it made no sound. For a moment, Lawrence thought that perhaps this was a ghost, as he approached it, he realized he was seeing a man. Was it his father? Had he killed himself in regret for his actions? But even as he thought this, Lawrence realized how naïve this idea was. He distinctly recalled his father's words at the asylum, as well as the sardonic smile he'd offered.</p><p>
  <em>"Life is far too glorious, even for the damned."</em>
</p><p>No, if there was one thing his father fervently clung to, it was life. A sense of overwhelming dread filled Lawrence as he took a step and then another towards the figure. Suddenly, the horrible odor of rotting meat filled his nostrils, and he couldn't help gagging into his sleeve. The body must have been hanging there for at least a week. He made a wide circle around the body, and a dark abyss opened up before him as he caught sight of the man's face. It was Singh.</p><p>Loyal, faithful, Singh was dead. The man who'd been the closest thing he'd had to a father figure, the only one who could have helped him face his father, was dead. There was horror stamped on the grey, waxy features, but no blood or visible signs of an attack. Had he hanged himself? Or was this something his father had done to intimidate anyone who came around.</p><p>Shuddering, Lawrence backed away from the ghastly sight and took a few moments to gather himself. Deep down, he had always believed that when the time came to face his father, Singh would be able to provide some help. He had believed in the curse hanging over their family. He had shown him the many weapons he'd prepared over the years. And in his heart he felt, it was a way of making up to him for keeping his father's secret. Yet now, he was all alone.</p><p>It would have been enough to have him sink into despair when he heard Maleva's voice from somewhere in his memory.</p><p>
  <em>"You have come to end the cycle, but it will require a sacrifice. The greatest sacrifice."</em>
</p><p>This was the sacrifice the gypsy woman had spoken about, Lawrence realized. He would have to endure his existence with the curse long enough to put an end to it, and it might cost him his life. But what was he giving up really? There was no place for him. Perhaps, there had never been, and he discovered he could live with that. The only thing he regretted, the only thing that made him hesitate was the thought of Gwen and the life he'd dreamt with her.</p><p>"<em>For in that sleep of death what dreams may come, when we have shuffled off this mortal coil, must give us pause</em>,"he whispered to himself.</p><p>Turning away from Singh, Lawrence slowly made his way up the staircase, careful to tread softly and on the carpet only. The upper floors were even darker, and Lawrence couldn't tell whether his eyes were open or closed as he walked through them. It seemed to take a long time to make his way to Singh's room, and he was keenly aware that the longer it took him to get his weapons, the more likely it was that he would be discovered.</p><p>Once he arrived, he slipped inside and let out a sigh of relief, wiping the sweat from his brow. He'd been jumpy and nervous as he traversed the better part of the house, thinking every shadow was a potential threat. However, Sing's room was as neat and peaceful as ever, and this made Lawrence's heart ache for him.</p><p>Guided by the faint light of the moon that streamed through the windows, Lawrence opened the cupboard where Singh had kept all his weapons. Knives, daggers, guns, rifles, and several boxfuls of ammunition were there at the ready. He carefully took each box out until he recognized the one where Singh had kept his silver bullets. It smelled faintly of sandalwood as he opened it and took out a bullet.</p><p>The small piece of metal glimmered in his hand, and Lawrence stopped for a moment to observe it. It seemed so small and insignificant that he questioned whether it had the power to end his life. Would it kill him if he shot himself at this moment? Or would the Wolf rebel against it?</p><p>"No, that will have to wait," Lawrence thought softly to himself as he inserted the bullet and then another into the rifle. "Singh deserved better. Mother and Ben deserved better, and I will do what I must."</p><p>He had just put everything back in the cupboard when he sensed a presence in the contiguous room. Every hair in his body stood erect, and he clutched the rifle tightly to his chest. There was a faint sound, like the tread of steps on carpet. Lawrence stepped closer to the entryway of Singh's bed chamber and out of the shadows came a fearsome growl that stoppered Lawrence's heart for a moment. Then, the shadow moved closer, and Lawrence saw it was Samson: The poor dog must have been left to fend off for itself after Singh had perished.</p><p>"Samson, it's me," Lawrence said softly, stretching out a hand to the animal.</p><p>The dog's growls became more menacing, and then they stopped as it sniffed the air. Samson let out a soft whine and approached Lawrence, slightly wagging its tail in recognition.</p><p>"Poor Samson. Everyone's forgotten about you," Lawrence said, getting down on one knee and stroking the wolfhound's large head. "Perhaps it is better this way."</p><p>He was still whispering when the dog bristled and retreated from him with a growl. Lawrence rose to his feet and slowly turned around, but saw nothing. He held his breath for a moment, straining his ears, and then a soft, melancholy melody reached his ears. Someone was playing the piano downstairs.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Shakespeare quotes on this chapter:</p><p>"I will be treble-sinewed, hearted, breathed, and fight maliciously. I'll set my teeth and send to darkness all that stop me" — Antony, "The Tragedy of Antony and Cleopatra", Act 3, Scene 13</p><p>"For in that sleep of death what dreams may come, when we have shuffled off this mortal coil, must give us pause." — Hamlet, "Hamlet", Act 3, Scene 1</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. New Chaste Moon</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The rain mercifully held off as Gwen rode towards Blackmoor with a weight in her heart. On the one hand, she was relieved to have the information she sought. On the other, she now had the terrible responsibility of choosing what to do with it. What she told Maleva was true. She could not willingly harm Lawrence, but she understood the implications of keeping him alive. As her horse trotted along the lonely countryside, Gwen let her mind wander, and she recalled small details of the brief moments she'd shared with him.</p><p>His curtness when she'd first sought him out. His polite shyness when he arrived during Ben's funeral. How she had suffered through sleepless nights, nursing him back to health. The moment when he had just awoken, and he'd looked up to her with relief and affection. The day at the lake, his arms about her, as he taught her to skip stones. The concern in his eyes when he'd made her leave the Hall. That was the last time she'd seen him before the curse fell upon him. And then finally, the kiss. It was the most precious memory she had of him, and as much as she repeated it over and over in her mind, Gwen knew it would never be enough. It had woken a deep yearning for love, and while she would always have a special place in her heart for Ben, the rest of it belonged to Lawrence. How then could she give him up? And yet, she knew she had to.</p><p>Gwen shook the memories from her mind and instead turned to the task at hand. Somehow, she needed to find a weapon made out of silver. A gun would be easier to wield since it could be shot from a distance and reloaded. However, she had no idea where she could get some silver bullets or indeed how to make them. To return home would be useless since her father would never agree to let her leave again. She thought about asking around town, but that would make people suspicious, and suddenly she had her answer.</p><p>Gwen remembered a particular walking stick that Lawrence owned. He had used it as support for walking while he recovered from the attack, and had once shown her the secret blade it held. It was a peculiar thing to own, and she had said as much. Lawrence had smiled faintly and agreed, telling her the odd story of how he came to own it. If she recalled correctly, the handle was made of silver, and so was the hidden blade.</p><p>If she could access the Hall in secret and seek out Singh, then maybe they could find it together. She didn't think he'd deny her his aid, considering the measures he'd taken to bring her and Lawrence to safety, but there was still the chance of Sir John finding out. The old man was prone to haunting the hallways of the old Hall at odd hours, guarding his home much like a dog, but there was no other way. She would have to take the risk.</p><p>A sudden need to get back at once came over Gwen, and she snapped the reins to make the horse pick up its pace. Though there were still some clouds in the sky, she could see its color had already changed to the golden pink of late afternoon. She would have to hurry.</p><hr/><p>For the better part of a month, Inspector Aberline had been searching throughout London for Lawrence Talbot. The case had become almost an obsession for him, and he dedicated most of his time interviewing people or doing rounds all over the city. A fortnight after Lawrence's escape, Aberline concluded that he had probably left London. It made sense he would leave, considering almost every man in the police force was tasked with finding him, and that made the inspector consider his next move.</p><p>He went back to the asylum and was given access to Lawrence's psychiatric record. Everything was documented: diagnostics, medication, and shock treatments. Even his time spent there as a child was recorded. Reading through this cold and clinical assessment of a man's life filled Aberline with pity and disgust, though it did nothing to deter him from his search. He needed to get a better understanding of Lawrence's mind and figure out where he could have gone, and pretty soon, the answer came to him. The animosity between father and son was well-documented, and it occurred to him that the only logical move was for Lawrence to go to Blackmoor. Aberline immediately spoke to his superiors, and they readily provided him with the means to achieve this.</p><p>Fifteen men eagerly signed up for the hunt, most of them having witnessed the havoc he'd wreaked in London, and a week later, the group set out across the countryside. They followed the path laid out by the railway and stopped at every large town to ask any locals if they'd seen a man wandering alone, a man dressed in fugitive's clothes. Hearing that Scotland Yard was leading a nationwide hunt for an escaped lunatic drew the attention of the populace, but none were able to give them any leads or valuable information.</p><p>Nearly two weeks passed until they finally made it to Blackmoor late one afternoon. Three carriages stopped at the small inn and from them descended the group of policemen. The flurry of activity made the villagers curious, but when word got out that Aberline and his men were in search of Lawrence Talbot, they quickly retreated into their homes. They were unwilling to risk their lives in another massacre like the one they'd witnessed two months back.</p><p>Aberline descended from the carriage and was slightly discomfited about returning to the small village. He had now witnessed twice the danger Lawrence Talbot presented to others, and he worried he would not be lucky enough to escape a third time. With a sigh, he entered the inn and spoke with the owner to arrange for food and lodgings for him and his men. After that, he gathered the group about him and began giving them instructions.</p><p>"We need to watch the access roads to Blackmoor as well as keep an eye out on the road that leads to the Hall," he said, rolling open a map of the area. "It is highly unlikely that Lawrence Talbot will arrive by those routes, but we cannot underestimate him."</p><p>"I'll also need someone to watch the wooded area surrounding the village," he said, pointing to the map. "Everyone pair up and load your pistols with the silver bullets we've provided. Do not underestimate Talbot. If you see him, do not ask any questions. Shoot to kill."</p><p>The men nodded in understanding, and the group broke up. Aberline gave Carter a look, and both men walked out from the building.</p><p>"Is there something bothering you, sir?"</p><p>The inspector lit a cigarette, inhaling the smoke and allowing it to ease the tension he inevitably felt. How much did he dare tell him? Was he having misgivings about the whole affair? It was one thing to do battle in London, a city teeming with life, but in this small town in the middle of the English countryside, the horror seemed more real.</p><p>"Sir?"</p><p>He turned to Carter and gave him a tight smile. "I need you to go to Sir John at Talbot Hall and let him know of the situation. It won't be a warm welcome, and he'll probably refuse to listen, but he has to know. After you've spoken with him, I want you to remain on the estate grounds."</p><p>"D'you think Talbot'll come for 'im?"</p><p>"Oh yes. My instinct tells me that this will be the final confrontation between father and son. We need to be prepared."</p><p>Carter nodded silently and then went off to find a horse to ride to the Hall, while Aberline remained outside. The evening was eerily silent, and he felt in his bones the humid cold of the moors. A chill descended like a blanket on him, and once more, he had the ominous feeling that something was going to happen that night.</p><p>Aberline took another drag of his cigarette when he heard the clatter of hoofs on the cobbled stones of the nearby bridge. He lifted his eyes and caught sight of a woman atop a white horse. Perhaps it was something in her movements, or maybe he was used to finding details with a single glance, but the inspector did a double-take as he realized he knew who the rider was.</p><p>"Miss Conliffe...?" He called out.</p><p>Gwen turned at the sound of her name, and a look of shock and fright appeared on her face as she saw Aberline.</p><p>"Miss Conliffe, wait!" The inspector called out, rushing towards her. What the hell was she doing there?!</p><p>As he approached, Gwen didn't hesitate, and she spurred her mount. The horse gave a startled nicker, and they quickly galloped away. The inspector couldn't see anything through the rising mist, but he was certain that Gwen had taken the road that led towards the Hall. If she was there then Lawrence wouldn't be far behind. Had they come together? Impossible. He had ordered someone to stand watch over the Conliffe's shop and their home, and no suspicious activity was reported. Still, her presence served only to further discomfort him. It was as though they were connected through an unseen bond, and they had were brought back to the place where everything had started.</p><p>Dispelling his thoughts with a shake of the head, the inspector quickly called to his men, and they set out to their posts in pairs while he decided to go after Gwen. That young woman had no idea of the danger she would be in if she came between Lawrence and his father. As he went to the stable where a horse was waiting for him, Aberline took one look at the sky and hoped that the moon would not be full that night.</p><hr/><p>Lawrence descended the last few steps of the staircase and slowly walked to the entrance of the parlor. Carefully, he peeked inside and swept the room with a single glance. There were no lights on save for a few lamps and, oddly enough, a roaring fire in the chimney. He couldn't see much farther in, but he detected no sounds or movements. Had he imagined the piano playing? No, Samson had noticed it as well. The dog had even growled at the sound. It was probably his father's idea of a sick game of cat and mouse, but he was not going to run away from him, not this time.</p><p>He walked along the edge of the room and suddenly caught sight of a pair of feet that protruded from the winged chair before the fire. He lifted the gun and slowly walked around. He started as he saw a man sitting on it, his eyes wide open and a thread of blood running down the middle of his face. Lawrence vaguely recognized him as one of the men working for Aberline, and he felt his heart sink.</p><p>How did that man come to be there?! Did that mean that Aberline was there as well? Had he also been killed? Lawrence felt the familiar surge of rage, and he felt a slight pain skip down his column. The Wolf was coming awake, and he would take over him before the evening was out.</p><p>"Lo and behold, the prodigal son returns!" A voice said, interrupting his thoughts.</p><p>Lawrence whipped about, rifle at the ready, and saw his father standing beside the piano. His hair slicked back, his beard trimmed, and there was a feral look in his eye that he recognized from before. It was one of the many signals of the Wolf's growing power. The sardonic smile sat unwell on his face, and Lawrence couldn't help but notice he held his old walking stick in his hand.</p><p>"I would ask what you are doing here, but it is rather obvious, isn't it? You've come to settle the score with your old man," he observed.</p><p>Lawrence's heart was beating wildly within him, but outwardly he had not lost his composure. He knew he had to act quickly, shoot first, and ask questions later, but he couldn't do it. He didn't know if it was the bond of blood that made him hesitate, but he couldn't bring himself to kill his father.</p><p>"I have," Lawrence replied instead, readjusting his grip on the rifle and taking a step back as the old man walked around the piano towards him.</p><p>Sir John seemed unfazed by his presence or the fact he was holding a gun up to him. "I admit that I thought you'd have come to appreciate the power of the Wolf by now. It is glorious isn't it?"</p><p>"No, it's hell," Lawrence muttered through gritted teeth. "I never wanted that power and never will."</p><p>Sir John chuckled, watching his son retreat with every step he took. "Are those Singh's silver bullets you've got loaded in there?"</p><p>Lawrence felt his hair stand on edge. So he knew. His father had probably known of his presence from the first moment he arrived, which meant he was taunting him again. He had probably also known about Singh's stash of weapons. Did he feel pleasure at knowing his servant had them at the ready to use against him? Or had he just discovered them and killed Singh for it?</p><p>"I'm sorry, but it has to be done," Lawrence admitted, hating the note of contrition in his voice.</p><p>His father shrugged his shoulders, and using the walking stick, he lifted the double barrels to point them at his face. "The beast is the beast. Let it run free."</p><p>At this, Lawrence shut his eyes and pulled the trigger. There was a horrible pause after that. He opened his eyes in panic and tried again, but the hammer clicked as though on an empty chamber. Lawrence lifted his gaze and caught a glimpse of the malevolent smile on his father's face a moment before he swung the walking stick at him. Lawrence evaded the strike, and in a desperate attempt to retaliate, he swung the rifle at his father. However, he miscalculated its momentum, and the weapon slipped from his hands and crashed against an oil lamp, setting the floor ablaze.</p><p>He took a step back, lifting his hands to protect himself. The blows came quick and hard, and he tried to block them as best he could while keeping at a distance from his father. However, Lawrence tripped against the leg of a chair, and he suddenly found himself lying on the carpet, looking up at his father.</p><p>"I emptied the powder from those bullets years ago," Sir John laughed, wielding the stick as Lawrence drew away from him. "But I must say I am happy to see you like this, acting like the man I always wanted you to be." He struck Lawrence's head and then aimed a kick at his stomach, knocking the air out of him.</p><p>Pain exploded all over Lawrence's body, as he rolled over, clutching at his middle. He was confused and disoriented, and he knew he would probably lose his life that night. He let out a gasp of pain as his father struck him with the handle of the walking stick, and suddenly an idea occurred to him.</p><p>"Poor, weak Lawrence!" Sir John gloated above him. "You were always meant to follow in my footsteps, not your brother. But in the end, you were both a nuisance."</p><p>Lawrence threw himself to the side and turned to look at his father, biding his time, waiting for the opportune moment.</p><p>"I thought getting rid of Benjamin was enough, and then you came along and took her from me!"</p><p>Lawrence blanched. "Gwen…?"</p><p>"At first, I thought it was only politeness on her part, but then I saw the way you acted around her, and the pains she took watching over you! And I knew… oh yes, I knew there was another obstacle in my way."</p><p>As he proclaimed this, Sir John aimed one last blow at the back of his son's neck. However, Lawrence was ready for it. He caught the stick with one hand while he twisted the handle with the other, feeling the mechanism release. Raging, his father tore the wooden end of the walking stick away from him, just as Lawrence pulled the silver rapier. He swiped the blade and felt it connect, just as his father let out a howl of pain and anger.</p><p>Lawrence got to his feet shuddering, and for the first time, noticed that the floor and wall beside the chimney had caught fire. His gaze followed the trail until it landed on his mother's portrait. The lovely image of Solana Talbot seemed to look down at him with a benign smile on her face, and for the first time in his life, Lawrence was glad she wasn't there to see what had become of him. A low growl brought his attention back to his father, and he was turning around when Sir John lunged at him, throwing him over a table.</p><p>Lawrence landed on his back with a grunt, losing his grip on the rapier, which clattered a few feet from him. He tried to get up, but the pain in his back was unbearable. Sir John took the opportunity and grabbed his son by the neck of his coat, dragging him towards the window where the full moon shone in all its splendor.</p><p>"Look at her, Lawrence, and revel in her power. She'll be here soon, coming from darkness into light, and then she'll be mine."</p><p>"No!" Lawrence screamed, grabbing his father by the waist and throwing him to the side.</p><p>Sir John did not lose his footing, and he let out a menacing snarl as he tried to tackle him. However, Lawrence managed to grab him by the neck, and he violently hurled him against a table and slammed him down several times.</p><p>"You were always heir to my kingdom, Lawrence, and now we shall finally see who will wear the crown!" Sir John cackled as thick, brown hair sprouted from his face, and his teeth changed into fangs.</p><p>"<em>I'll be damned for never a king's son in Christendom!</em>" Lawrence growled, feeling the poison work its way through him.</p><p>He knew this would be the last time he would be conscious, and as his body began to change, he was able to spare the last of his thoughts for Gwen.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Shakespeare quotes on this chapter:</p><p>"I'll be damned for never a king's son in Christendom." — Falstaff, "Henry IV, Part I", Act 1, Scene 2</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Waxing Chaste Moon</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Gwen rode through the forest path that led to the Hall in a panic. She kept looking back to see if she was being followed, but all she saw were the trees. Still, she was certain Aberline would not be far off, not when he'd seen her and called out her name. She snapped the reins, urging her horse to go faster. She'd been out on the poor creature all day, and Gwen knew its strength would last much longer. If only she could make it to the Hall!</p><p>The trees soon began thinning, and through the spaces between them, she could see a bright, orange light. She looked above and noted that the same glow showed above the trees. What could it possibly be? She turned a corner on the road and came on to the fields closest to the house. However, Gwen was not prepared for the spectacle that awaited her. The entire east wing of the house was on fire, and she could see flames flickering on the second and third floors. She knew this was no mere accident, and she directed the horse towards the nearest entrance, which was the parlor and Sir John's study.</p><p>The smoke was thick and dark as she neared the building, and she had to pull out her handkerchief to cover her mouth and nose. The horse strained and pulled away, frightened by the roaring flames, but Gwen somehow managed to lead it to the stairs that led to the glass doors. After she jumped down, she released the reins, and the horse immediately bolted into the woods.</p><p>Gasping and coughing, Gwen ran towards the entrance hoping it wouldn't be too late. She threw open the door and found the room engulfed in flames. The furniture was thrown about, broken glass and chunks of wood all over the place. She was about to call out Lawrence's name when suddenly a fierce roar echoed in the room, and she saw the two hulking figures battling each other. One was the dark-haired wolf-man Gwen had seen described in the newspapers, and the other was a similar creature except that its hair was lighter in color. It was Sir John, the Werewolf, the beast that had killed Solana and Ben, and which was now trying to kill his son.</p><p>"Lawrence..." Gwen wept as she watched him swing an enormous paw, tearing into his adversary, drawing blood.</p><p>Fortunately, neither beast had noticed Gwen's arrival, intent as they were in tearing each other apart. The Werewolf let out a terrifying roar just as the Wolfman attacked again, hurling itself against its opponent and biting down hard on its shoulder. The Werewolf howled in pain and rage and snapped at the Wolfman, but the other held fast. They struggled for a few moments longer, and then the Werewolf managed to scratch at its enemies' eyes. The Wolfman retreated a few steps, wiping the blood away from its face, and the Werewolf went in for the kill. It bared its fangs and swung a lethal claw at its adversary, but the Wolfman was at the ready. It successfully avoided the attack and swiped its claw at the same time. The Werewolf's neck gave a sickening crack as the bone and flesh tore; its head was severed clean off.</p><p>Gwen let out a horrified gasp as she saw this, but also felt an enormous wave of relief sweep through her. Sir John was dead, and he would never harm anyone ever again. As though sharing her feelings, the Wolfman let out a long, triumphant howl.</p><p>At that moment, the sound of footsteps echoed behind Gwen, and she turned around to find Aberline standing in the doorway. His face was a mask of concentration as he gazed beyond her at the Wolfman, aiming a gun. Without thinking, she threw herself against him.</p><p>"No, don't!" She cried out as she knocked his arm away from Lawrence. The gun went off with a loud bang, and the bullet ricocheted off the wall.</p><p>Despite the thunderous roar of the fire, the sound was enough to draw the Wolfman's attention. It turned towards them and growled as it recognized Aberline. Aberline and Gwen stood frozen for a second, and the creature sprang through the air towards them.</p><p>Gwen screamed just as the inspector threw her off to the side. She rolled on the ground as he was knocked to the ground by the Wolfman's incredible force. The beast tore at his shoulder with its massive jaws eliciting a piercing scream from Aberline.</p><p>"The gun! It... has... silver...!" He managed to say before letting out another scream.</p><p>Terrified, Gwen scrambled across the floor to where Aberline's revolver had landed. She grabbed it and stood up, hesitating for a moment. Her life was in danger, but she couldn't leave him to die. She spun around in time to see the Wolfman shove Aberline's body against the wall, and then it turned its cold, cruel gaze on her. Gwen's eyes widened as she realized just what she was up against. The being before her was no man, but a beast, a beast accustomed to killing without thought or regret. The man who Lawrence had been, did not exist within the Wolfman, and the thought chilled her. She was doomed.</p><p>The Wolfman roared at her and prepared to leap again when the point of a lance struck its body. It snarled and turned its attention back to Aberline who, though bleeding profusely, had managed to grab a thin rapier and was now wielding it before him.</p><p>"Run!" He yelled, preparing to attack the beast once more.</p><p>Gwen turned around and fled, all the time regretting having to leave the inspector to fend off for himself.</p><hr/><p>A breath of frigid air struck Gwen as she emerged from the burning building. Without thinking, she descended the steps and took to the path that led into the woods. She didn't dare look back or stop to catch her breath. She only concentrated on putting distance between her and the Hall, knowing her life was at stake.</p><p>Despite the brightness of the night, the forest itself was pitch black, and Gwen struggled to keep her footing. She had never experienced terror like this before. It was a feeling that numbed all her senses and thoughts, leaving only the desire to escape the unstoppable force that chased her. As she ran, she wondered if Ben had experienced this feeling as the Werewolf hunted him down. How terrible his last moments had been!</p><p>Suddenly Gwen's foot caught in the raised root of a tree, and she toppled to the ground, nearly losing her grasp on the gun. She picked it up and clasped it to her chest, as it was now the only thing standing between her and certain death. As she rose to her feet, the howl of the Wolf echoed around her. She looked over her shoulder and there, on the hill above her, she saw the Wolfman. It stood at the edge of the forest, illuminated by the flames that were slowly consuming the once-great house of the Talbot family.</p><p>Panic shot through her, and Gwen began running again, and this time she was able to hear the heavy footfalls of the beast as it rushed towards her. She had no hope of outrunning it, but maybe she could trick it. Fighting every instinct in her body, Gwen stopped beside a large, oak tree. She pressed herself against the trunk and felt the ground for a rock. The Wolfman was still some ways from her, closing in quicker than she'd expected. When she found one large enough for her purpose, she used all of her strength to toss it away from her. She heard it clatter against a tree trunk and heard the surprised grumble of the creature as it changed its course. All at once, she began running in the opposite direction. Gwen didn't know how much time her diversion had bought, but she knew she couldn't keep running. Eventually, she would have to face the beast and then...</p><p>Gwen gave a short cry as she stopped short at the edge of a ravine. The low rumble of a waterfall echoed against the sheer walls, and as Gwen slowly backed away from the drop, she realized she knew where she was. It seemed like a lifetime had passed since she'd last been there, but she recognized Ben and Lawrence's clearing. It hadn't been her intention to go there, but perhaps her feet had picked this path on their own.</p><p>Still gasping after her long race, Gwen slowly turned about, inspecting the clearing. The shrubs and small trees were bare of any leaves, and the moon filtered through their branches, allowing for light in some places. There was, however, nothing she could use as protection, nothing that would stand between her and the beast. She turned once more to the ravine and considered her options. The other edge was too far away for her to reach, and she knew there was no way she could make it back to the house without the creature noticing. She considered the height of the drop and wondered if the fall would kill her. She couldn't see anything beyond the frothing, swirling waters, but she knew there could be rocks just beneath the surface.</p><p>A branch cracked nearby, and Gwen's head snapped up. Her eyes swept the clearing once more, and it was then she detected the hulking shadow just beyond the tree line. The creature had found her. She was trapped.</p><p>The Wolfman let out a menacing growl as it stepped into the light, and it was all Gwen could do to keep from screaming. It looked straight at her, its jaws open wide, dripping with blood. The tatters of the clothes that still clung to its body were dirty with blood, Gwen could see a deep gash on its side. The pain, however, seemed not to bother it as it slowly approached her.</p><p>"Look at me, Lawrence. It's me!" Gwen said in a pleading tone as she extended one hand towards the creature, hiding Aberline's revolver behind her.</p><p>The Wolfman snarled, its malevolent gaze rooting her to the spot. It knew there was nowhere for her to go. All it had to do was wait for the right moment to attack. At that moment, Gwen suddenly feared that the curse could not be broken and that she had willingly walked to her death. No! She would not give up faith. She still believed in Lawrence, still believed he could be saved</p><p>"Don't Lawrence, please!" She wept desperately. "You know me!"</p><p>At the moment the creature rushed towards her, Gwen slipped on the gravel and fell back on the moss-covered bank. She let out a cry of pain and dropped the gun as the Wolfman toppled over her.</p><p>The creature let out a triumphant roar and Gwen begged once more, knowing those would probably her last words. "Remember me, Lawrence! You know me, it's Gwen!"</p><p>And then the Wolfman hesitated. It stood above her, menacing and imposing, but the eyes that regarded everything with the purest evil and hatred, now opened wide, softening. Gwen thought she saw something like recognition flash across the enormous yellow eyes, and her hope was kindled. He is there!</p><p>Gently, she moved her hand and suddenly felt the cold touch of metal beside it. It was the gun!</p><p>Suddenly, the barking of dogs echoed in the woods, and the Wolfman turned towards the sound. The calls of men could be heard across the forest, and Gwen knew Aberline's men had found their trail and were coming for him. The creature let out a chilling howl, and she trembled at the sound. She needed to act now, but her body wouldn't obey, and then she heard Maleva's voice floating out of the abyss of her memory.</p><p>
  <em>"He will be forever condemned. Will you allow that, or will you set him free?"</em>
</p><p>Weeping, Gwen looked at the Wolfman above her as she firmly gripped the gun. She pointed it upwards as best she could at the same moment the monster turned its attention back to her. The brief look of understanding was gone, replaced once more by vicious hatred. Gwen met its eyes with determination, just as the Wolfman lifted its deadly claw ready to strike her. Then, she pulled the trigger.</p><p>The shot rang out loudly, and the creature let out a fearsome bellow of pain before collapsing. Gwen desperately scrabbled from beneath its weight. As she stood and turned to look at the once-fearsome creature, she could not stop crying. She had done it. Somehow, she had found the strength to kill the Wolf, though unfortunately, it had taken Lawrence with it. She covered her face with her hands and began crying openly when suddenly, the beast reached out and caught her arm.</p><p>She screamed and struggled against the grip, but it held fast. Then Gwen realized it was not a claw, but a hand that held on to her. Before her eyes, the dark, bristly fur disappeared, and the bulging muscles of oil-black skin melted down to soft, pink flesh. Gwen moved closer to the body, and using the last of her strength, turned it over. She let out a mournful lament as she saw the Wolfman was gone, and only Lawrence, her Lawrence, remained. The folk tales were true, and the curse was broken. She had succeeded.</p><p>She put a trembling hand against the bleeding from the wound on his chest. "Oh Lawrence, please, forgive me!"</p><p>His eyelids fluttered at the sound of her voice. He was very weak, and his breath came out with difficulty. "Gwen...?" He asked softly.</p><p>She leaned over him, placing her hand against his cheek. "I'm here. I am so sorry!"</p><p>Her touch felt warm against the blanket of cold that swept over him, numbing his senses. He reached up and put his hand on top of hers. "It had to be this way. Th... thank you."</p><p>She bent down and pressed a soft kiss on his lips, saying the words she'd held back all this time. "I love you."</p><p>He smiled faintly at this and then, feeling at peace, closed his eyes. Gwen rested her forehead against his chest and wept as she'd never done before. She cried for Lawrence, Ben, and Solana Talbot, who the misery of living with someone who embraced the curse of the Wolf. She cried for Singh, who had died trying to make it right for Lawrence, and who had achieved it through her. She cried for Aberline, who'd risked his life to save her and who was probably dead. And last, she wept for herself, for she had learned what love was, and despite the pain, she would not trade a single moment with Lawrence for all the riches in the world.</p><p>The hunting party soon arrived at the clearing beside the cliff, and they were shocked to see their prey lay dead and that Gwen was there with him. The young woman looked up in fright at the group of men that stood at the edge of the clearing and was surprised to see a figure emerge from among them.</p><p>Aberline walked up to her with difficulty, holding a bloody handkerchief against his neck. The tableau before him seemed pulled from some tragic play. The young woman remained on the ground, holding on protectively Lawrence Talbot. There was no mark on his body, no sign that the Wolf had ever inhabited it, only a look of peace on the young man's face.</p><p>Gwen lifted her eyes at Aberline, and an unspoken message crossed between them. He gave a slight nod, and then as one, they both turned to look at the enormous, silver orb that hung above them in the sky.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. Chapter 21</h2></a>
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    <p>Gwen Conliffe stood beneath her umbrella in the small churchyard of Blackmoor Chapel. The few mourners who had attended the service had left some minutes before, and she was grateful for the peace and quiet.</p><p>Her gaze rested on the tombstone upon which a name and date of birth and death had been neatly chiseled. There would be no grand mausoleums or monuments, no funeral procession, only a plain, granite slab to mark his resting place.</p><p>"Perhaps it is better this way," she thought, though she couldn't help the tears that brimmed in her eyes.</p><p>Now there was no one left to tell the truth of what had happened at Talbot Hall. Its dark secrets were buried beneath the ashes of the ancestral home, and hopefully, they would remain undisturbed forevermore.</p><p>As her thoughts swirled around everything that had happened in the course of a few months, Gwen heard the soft tread of steps on wet grass, yet she did not turn around. A man dressed in a long, gray coat stopped beside her. His hat threw a shadow over his eyes, and one hand clutched a cane upon which he leaned heavily. She shifted her umbrella to cover them both, but he did not seem to notice. Instead, he looked down at the grave and shared in her silence for a long while.</p><p>"It is said there's no sin in killing a beast, only a man," he said at last. "He did not deserve to die."</p><p>Gwen turned to face him, her look changing from sadness to one of compassion. "It was inevitable. He could not live with the curse upon him."</p><p>He nodded. "Still, it could have been stopped."</p><p>"No," she said softly, placing her hand on his arm. "He chose his fate... as did you."</p><p>He looked down at her and was encouraged by the look in her eyes. Maybe she was right. He pressed his hand on top of hers to both thank and comfort and then knelt before the stone.</p><p>"<em>Fear no more the heat o' th' sun nor the furious winters' rages; Thou thy worldly task hast done,</em>" he murmured after a moment of silent prayer. Then he drew something from his pocket and carefully placed it on the ground.</p><p>As he shakily got to his feet, Gwen reached for his arm to help him up. His face was still bruised and cut, and he could hardly take two steps without the need for help, but he was alive and that was all that mattered to her.</p><p>"Let's go," she said softly, twining her arm around Lawrence's.</p><p>He took a moment longer to look at the stone marked with the name of Francis Aberline, and then allowed her to guide him away. Upon the loose dirt of the mound rested a rough-hewn medallion carved with the image of a saint surrounded by wolves.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Shakespeare quotes on this chapter:</p><p>"Fear no more the heat o' th' sun nor the furious winters' rages; Thou thy worldly task hast done." — Guiderius, "Cymbeline", Act 4, Scene 2</p><p>—</p><p>Author's Note: I'd just like to thank everyone who's been keeping up with the story. I know this is a pretty obscure fandom, but I'm happy for the comments that I've received and I hope that everyone has found this to be an interesting and compelling story.</p><p>And you know what they say, as a cycle ends, another begins.</p><p>Thanks!</p>
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